Night and Day
by Chasidah
Summary: When a young night elf priestess nearly trips over a dying blood elf, she has no idea how drastically her life is about to change. This story is on hold until 5.1 comes out! I'm sorry!
1. Chapter 1

_Hello everyone! If you like this, please write a review, even if it's brief! I try to update on Wednesdays. Obviously, I don't take any credit for the setting of this story, since it is all from World of Warcraft. So let our adventure begin..._

**Chapter 1**

When I first saw him there, sitting in a pool of his own blood, I was caught in that strange emotional state somewhere between pure panic and intense curiosity.

It was a beautiful night, the slight breeze blurring the full moon's bright reflection in the lake. If I peered up through the trees I could still see the swirl of smoke from a late dinner being cooked at Lion's Pride Inn, so I knew I hadn't wandered too far from Goldshire. Taking a walk through Elwynn forest wasn't exactly a dangerous endeavor; at least, that was what I thought until I nearly tripped over a blood elf.

I froze completely for a few seconds, my breath catching. Half of me expected him to leap up and tear out my throat. I was a scholar and a healer, not a warrior. I could no more defend myself from this elf than my books could defend themselves from Stormwind's notorious rats.

Seconds ticked by. He didn't move. As my heart beat began to slow and my mind stopped conjuring up horrifying death scenarios, I began noticing the signs of battle. As a night elf the darkness didn't hinder my vision, and now that the veil of fear had lifted I could see the gruesome sight far more clearly.

He was in a somewhat awkward sitting position, leaning against the tree behind him. His leather jerkin, which was likely of that intricate Sin'dorei design, was torn almost entirely to shreds. Dark blood covered the tattered fabric, and a giant gash had torn both the leather and his skin from collar bone to lower torso. If he was alive, it would have been unbelievably painful. Tens of smaller cuts marred every limb of his body. The wounds looked like they were delivered by a rogue, evident by the classic slice-and-dice style of this creature's slaying. I didn't see any weapons, or any signs of the ground being disturbed, so I surmised the fight had likely taken place elsewhere.

I kneeled down beside him, ignoring all my self-preservation instincts. The dappled moonlight that filtered in through the trees above me cast an eerie glow on his pale hair. That hair looked like it had once been braided, but had since come undone and now covered his face.

I wanted to see his face.

As I brushed his hair back, I noticed even more blood, though I couldn't see a wound. With my other hand I placed my fingers against his wrist, but I didn't feel a heartbeat. _This blood loss probably killed him_, I thought absently as his face was unveiled.

"I bet you were a pretty one," I murmured, admiring his sharp but bruised and dirty features. I dropped my pack beside me and took out my book and pen. Dipping the pen in the tiny bottle of ink I always kept with it, I began to write.

"White hair, long enough to reach mid-back." I spoke softly to myself as I wrote down the words. His hair color was like mine, and like me the white did not signify old age, as in humans. Depending on his birth, he could've been anywhere between twenty five years old or a few thousand. Most blood elves were under two or three centuries.

I tapped the pen against my paper as I let my eyes roam down his body. "I thought blood elves were supposed to be short," I frowned at the corpse, mentally laughing at my own morbidity. But it was for science! And curiosity. This was a rare opportunity.

"No matter. Tall, probably taller than me, at approximately six foot two or three. Attractive, lithe body, far less bulky than an average night elf male. Recently deceased. Cause of death is likely blood loss, from a wound on his torso and possibly the neck."

He opened his eyes.

With a screech I leapt backwards, dropping everything and slamming my back painfully into the tree behind me. Two glowing emerald eyes watched me with a look of predatory amusement before they glazed over with pain. He made a move to stand up, but got no more than an inch off the ground before he fell back again with what I expect were a series of muffled curses.

By all that is holy, he was _alive!_ But he couldn't run after me. _That_ was a relief. His heart beat must have been too faint for me to feel. He had nearly scared the blue out of my skin.

My eyes flew automatically to my journal, open face down in the dirt near him. I scrambled forward, grabbed my book and pen, then darted back out of his reach; not that he had reached for me, but I felt safer with some space between us.

I flipped back to the page I was on, scowling at the giant line I had drawn across it in my panic. I would just have to write over it and deal with the aesthetic blunder.

I looked back up to meet his gaze. He watched me with an intensity that was thoroughly unnerving, and I fought the urge to hide behind something like a coward. His facial features were even more intimidating when he was awake, and those eyes held a knowledge that lead me to believe he was a lot older than he looked. "Your eyes are the most fascinating shade of green," I thought out loud, knowing he would not speak Darnassian. Blood elves only spoke Thalassian and Orcish. I wrote this fact down, attempting to describe the lovely color. It really was beautiful, ethereal even. I had never actually seen a blood elf up close before.

"Thank you."

My jaw nearly hit the ground, and I just barely caught myself before I dropped my book yet again. "You speak _Darnassian_?" I gasped, my face probably turning a strange shade of purple with embarrassment. What had he heard me saying? _I just complemented my enemy's eyes and he heard me. Fabulous._

"Clearly," was his monotone reply. I couldn't read his emotions at all, and I didn't really know what to do. Run around in crazed circles? Beat him over the head with my book? Scream?

"Are you going to try and kill me?" I asked bluntly, focusing intently on his face to judge his response to my question.

"I haven't decided yet," he grated as he shifted into what was probably a slightly more comfortable position. "I'm not in a particularly good mood at this time."

He couldn't just speak Darnassian, he was fluent! I didn't even hear an accent. "Your Darnassian is perfect, how do you know it?"

"Already down to the interrogation, eh? No introduction?" He drawled sardonically. His voice was raspy, and I wondered how long he had been out here for.

"Are you thirsty?" I asked him, my healing instincts kicking in. I noted the evasion of my previous question, but it had been expected. I bent down to my bag to put away my book, then pulled out my canteen. My eyes never left him as I performed the action, and I felt like a mouse being sized up by a panther as he watched me.

"Yes," he responded, and I could hear the faint bit of excitement at the prospect of water.

"Don't make any sudden moves," I warned, creeping closer. Why was I doing this? I could just leave right now, run back to Goldshire and tell the guards. Then they would just finish him off, hopefully with mercy.

When I got just close enough, I crouched down and leaned forward, angling my body as far away from him as I possibly could. I held my water canteen to his mouth, but he kept his lips sealed tight, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "If I wanted to kill you, I would be attempting to snap your neck, or perhaps start beating you with my book, not wrecking my own canteen with poison. Now drink."

That earned me a raised eyebrow. "Charming," he rasped before complying, drinking more vigorously than I expected. I'm fairly certain he would've downed the whole thing if I hadn't taken it away.

"Where are you injured?" I inquired, still keeping as much distance as I could. I didn't trust him enough to lean in and check him myself. From what I could see, the main damage was in the form of a big, bleeding gash across his chest. It looked incredibly painful.

I was met with silence.

"For goodness sakes! What do you think I'm going to do? Rub dirt in it?" Now I was just getting frustrated. Usually it was near impossible for people to get my temper to show, but this creature was managing it by just looking at me. An impressive feat. The worst I could do was make him die faster than he already was, so I couldn't figure out his problem. Perhaps pride and stubbornness.

He responded with a tight laugh, his expression guarded. "You must be young if you think trust can come easily between the two of us."

"And you must be daft if you think you have any options right now. Either I leave you to bleed to death, or you stop being so resistant to my help." Yes, I was young. What was his point? To be twenty one as a night elf was to be a newborn infant to a human. The older night elves had yet to adapt to their loss of immortality. As the majority of the population fell into this older category, it was perpetually frustrating.

"My neck," He spoke quietly, breaking my train of thought.

"What?"

"The injury that will likely be the death of me is on my neck, under my hair."

Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes in suspicion. To access that area I would have to be practically on top of him. He could grab me, and then I would be in some serious trouble. All though I _had_ seen a lot of blood there earlier, so he was likely telling the truth.

"Trust goes two ways, little elf."

Okay, so I was young _and_ small for my kind. What of it?

"And if I wanted to kill you, I could have earlier when you referred to me as _pretty_," he sneered the last word with disgust.

He had been awake, even then.

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks with embarrassment yet again. He would've heard my comments about his _lithe body_ as well. By Elune, this was awkward. But he had a point. I was already crouched, so I went down fully on my hands and knees with less than a stride between us. "If you try to kill me, I swear I'll feed you piece by piece to these wolves." Bluff, bluff, bluff.

That got a hearty chuckle from him that ended with a grunt of pain. "You have a way with words, pet. Unfortunately for you, even in my condition, if I decided to kill you there would be nothing you could do."

"Arrogance is _so_ unattractive in a man," I sighed dramatically, crawling a little bit closer. Testing the proverbial waters. "And if you call me_ pet_ again, I might go and do it anyways."

"It's unattractive only if it's unfounded. Pet."

I snorted at his obvious taunt. "Humility is underrated. And the wolves will be mighty happy tonight." I watched him watch me for a few moments, and felt bold enough to continue when he didn't sprout wings or horns or turn into some sort of fel creature. "If I touch your arm, are you going to bite my hand off?" I asked, only half joking.

"I'm a blood elf, not a worgen," he replied with exasperation.

"I've met some amicable worgen in my day, but never an amicable member of the Horde." With that I reached my hand out, my fingers gently brushing down the mostly intact leather shielding his left arm. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Satisfied?" He asked me dryly.

"Never," I gave him a wry smile. I was never satisfied with anything in my life. Life was generally so lackluster that this deviation from the norm was almost a welcome thing. Maybe that explained why I was acting so out of character.

"I've never healed a blood elf before, and I'm afraid if I use magic it will backfire," I murmured, half to myself and half to him as I pulled back his hair. I would bet his hair was lovely when it was well groomed, but now it was caked with dirt and blood. The color stained my hands.

My eyes widened when I finally found the deep wound on his neck. "How on Azeroth are you even alive?" I gaped, afraid to move. As if that would somehow make it worse.

"I think he just missed the main artery."

"Was it an assassination attempt? How unprofessional," I mused, biting my lip as I thought about how best to approach this.

"He assumed I would bleed out. An amateur, clearly."

He was certainly taking this all with good humor. But why would someone do this to him?

"Spy!" I suddenly proclaimed, pieces clicking. "Why else would you know Darnassian so fluently? I expect you know Common as well. My goodness, helping you is like treason on top of treason."

I pulled back, my pity for his suffering warring with my loyalty to the Alliance. "Am I right?" I questioned, dreading the response.

"Would you believe me if I said otherwise?" His expression gave nothing away.

"That would depend on your answer."

"Then no, I am not a spy. But the language does have its uses in my line of work."

"Which is…" I trailed off.

"Nothing you want to know about, pet."

I saw the small tick of an encroaching smile on his face. He was enjoying messing with my head. And messing with it he was. I frowned, but his smile was somewhat infectious.

"I'd slap you if I wasn't afraid it would open up your throat more than it already is," I half teased him, just to see how he would react. My lips quirked up without my permission.

"I'll put it on my tab."

He was amusing, I would give him that. But my smile faded when my eyes focused back on the wound. I stayed quiet for a few moments as I considered the complications of my next actions. "If I help you, you have to promise not to hurt me."

His eyebrows flew up at my words, "And why, pray tell, would you help me?"

"I don't like watching things suffer. There's a reason I'm a healer."

"If you don't want me to suffer, why not kill me and put me out of my misery?"

Was that _longing_ in his voice? I grimaced at the thought. I didn't have it in me.

He paused thoughtfully before continuing. "You have a kind soul, which is a powerful weakness in this world. It will be used against you." He sounded as if he spoke from experience. "But I don't make promises I can't keep, pet. I can tell you that unless I am otherwise provoked, or feel threatened, I will not kill you on this day."

"I said _hurt_ me, which includes killing and all other sorts of injury."

"I will not _hurt_ you, then. If you are foolish enough to trust my word."

I _hmphed _before standing up. "There is a difference between genuine trust and a precarious truce. I'll be right back."

Considering Crystal Lake was within a fifteen or twenty second walking distance, I didn't have to go very far. Goldshire wasn't exactly the most environmentally friendly of towns, and I found a discarded bucket without having to look very hard. Filling the wooden pail with water, I hefted it up and walked back over to him, trying not to spill it all over myself.

I was in an all-white dress tonight, but clearly it wasn't going to stay that way. There was already dirt all over it from crawling on the ground, and a smear of red from where I had wiped my hands on it after touching the blood elf. Sitting down beside said blood elf, I tore a strip off the bottom of my dress. Which was a lot harder than it sounds.

"I want to use as little magic as possible with healing you," I told him matter-of-factly, dipping the cloth into the water. "Though you are an elf, you are physiologically quite different from a night elf, and I don't know how your body will react to my magic. I'm going to clean your wounds manually to make the healing as simple as possible for myself, because if I mess up, that could cause some serious problems for you."

"I understand… thank you."

I looked up at him in surprise. His voice was sincere. "Don't thank me yet," I said, hesitating. "This is probably going to hurt pretty badly." I was kneeling right beside him now, my knees pressed up against his outer thigh. Leaning over his chest, I slowly unbuttoned the few buttons that were left on his jerkin. He let out a hiss of pain as I pried it off him. Getting both of his arms out was a feat, and it took at least thirty seconds of difficult finagling. I threw the bloodied jerkin aside, and was unable to suppress my grimace when I turned back around to see the damage.

Oh, his chest wound was awful. Deep, with bits of leather jammed into it. I was going to have to take those out piece by piece. If I hadn't been so worried about him surviving, I would have appreciated the fine view this presented me with. His muscles were excellent, built for a perfect combination of agility and strength. I brought up my wash cloth, keeping eye contact as I did so. I felt like I was tending a wounded animal, and didn't want to spook him.

"Pet, I won't break. Go ahead and do your worse."

I had to smile at that. "You say that _now_. I haven't even begun to pry these pieces of leather from your wound."

"You look strangely excited about the prospect."

"I enjoy challenges. They are rare in my line of work."

"Which is…" he trailed off, parroting my earlier words.

"You don't want to know, pet." I smiled deviously, pulling out what was probably the deepest hunk of leather in there. To his credit, he didn't do more than clench his teeth and narrow his eyes.

"Wow. Score one for the blood elf." I was legitimately impressed by his restraint.

We stayed in silence for some time while I worked, and he was the one to break it. "What was that book you were writing in earlier?"

"My journal."

"You carry it around with you everywhere and write down the descriptions of corpses?"

"Ha," I smiled, dipping the cloth back into the water. "Not quite. I write down anything interesting that I don't want to forget."

"And you didn't want to forget my attractive body?"

I flinched at his words. Like I needed a reminder in regards to my earlier comments. "Add another slap to that tab for me."

"Talking is a good distraction from pain," he continued. The man was as white as death from blood loss. The fact that he was still so coherent surprised me. "Why do you write?"

I pursed my lips and debated whether I wanted to tell him the truth. It's not like I'd ever see him again anyways. "One day I woke up and I realized I couldn't remember what my own mother had looked like. Since then I've gained a compulsive need to write everything down so I don't forget."

The old pain still brought tears to my eyes, but I held them back.

"I'm sorry," he said. Ah yes, that uncomfortable situation when you have no idea how to console a complete stranger.

"Don't worry about it, blood elf. It's an old wound."

"Call me Lor."

I paused in my work, but didn't take my eyes off the wound. Lor was a lovely name, and it suited him. I was probably expected to return mine. "I'm Chasidah."

"Sounds foreign."

I bit my tongue to prevent a rude retort. For some reason his mockery stung more than the mockery of the humans I worked with. _You're so young for a night elf! You're so short for a night elf! What type of name is Chasidah?_

"My parents got creative." _Pull._ He tensed under my hands, but again made no sound. I finished wiping away the dirt and blood around the outside of the wound with one hand while the other began slowly pulling out one last bit of debris. It was almost ready.

"Now if you are done mocking my height, age and name, I'm going to finish what I'm doing."

"I meant no insult," his words came smoothly. "Chasidah is a lovely name, your height is endearing, and if you knew my age you would know why I consider you a child."

I whipped my head up to look him in the eyes. "I had to grow up fast, blood elf."

He raised a brow. "Spare me the story, you will get no pity from me."

"I don't want your pity," I snapped. "Just a modicum of respect, at least until we are done here."

"You don't wish to be considered a child, hmmm?" His voice was gentle but with a sharp edge. I should've reacted to the danger in his voice, but I had been too focused on my task. His hand reached my leg before I could react, and before I knew what was happening I was sitting in his lap, straddling his thighs in a manner that was exceedingly provocative, even in this situation. I couldn't stop the blush that crept into my cheeks, or my soft gasp at the unexpected contact.

"You are naïve in the ways of the flesh, aren't you?" The hand that wasn't gripping my thigh now came up and brushed along my cheekbone. I was transfixed, and couldn't get myself to move or push myself away. He was right, of course. I had never gone beyond an enthusiastic kiss and some touching. And for some reason the coherency of my thoughts was declining rapidly.

"I can't even tell you when I last had a woman, because I don't remember. Life has not been kind to me. If you were not a child, little night elf, I would have already sunk myself deep inside you."

I think my jaw dropped open at that. A feeling stirred deep in my stomach, and my heart began fluttering like a butterfly's wings. But amazingly… I wasn't that afraid. Was it odd that I was flattered that this creature wanted me? I knew what he had meant; I did _read _a lot. But he had promised not to hurt me, and I still believed that.

"Your purity, not only the physical kind, is a draw for something as tainted as myself," he continued, those fingers now traveling down my neck, over my collar bone. I shivered. "Your spirit and humor are addicting, and that sinful half smile of yours makes me think about how those lips would feel wrapped around my cock."

My breath caught at the imagery. His face twisted into something that looked like a combination of pain and desire. "Damn, woman. Keep cleaning the wound. I need the distraction before I do something unwise."

I looked down automatically, averting my eyes. When I saw the bulge straining against his leather trousers, I know my pale blue complexion turned a deep violet. Averting my eyes quickly in a different direction this time, I reached for the wet cloth.

"Do that again," he whispered so softly I almost didn't think I had heard him. Cloth in hand, I tried to gauge the expression on his face. I couldn't. His head was tilted back against the tree behind him, his beautiful green eyes closed. I took the moment to examine his features once again, now that he wasn't looking.

The moon was shining in at just the right angle so I could get an even clearer image. Now I noticed the lines of stress on his face and the thick, pale scar that slithered over his left eye. I had noticed earlier that the color of his left eye was slightly different than his right; did he still have vision in it? If he was human I would've guessed him to be in his early thirties, which meant he was likely a whole lot older. It was hard to tell because of the dirt and blood, but I had a feeling he would be strikingly handsome if he cleaned it off. Handsome in a rugged, lethal predator sort of way. Not for the faint of heart._ And not for you, Chasidah._

"Do what again?" I whispered back, afraid to break the sudden silence. My voice wavered and I gave myself a mental shake. I could handle this.

"Look at me like that. It was almost as lovely as a caress." His words were low and throaty, a borderline growl. I could practically feel the sexual tension in the air now, and his tone made my breath hitch and abdominal muscles clench.

Unbidden, my eyes flickered down. My tongue flicked out of its own accord as his earlier proclamation came to mind and erotic images danced their way through my imagination. Why had I never felt this way with another night elf? A human, even? Why _this _creature? How could this blood elf cause this strange heat I was feeling?

_What would he taste like?_

I was losing my mind.

"Pet, you tempt me."

I snapped out of my daze, forcing my gaze back to his wound. "You're dying," I said in a shaky voice. "I suggest you think of more appropriate things."

"Difficult, with you staring at my groin like you just were."

"You told me to."

"Mmm, and do you do everything you are told, pet?" He was just playing with me now, but the heat in his eyes was still very serious.

I turned away from him, dipping the cloth back into the bin to wash it clean. This had become some sort of challenge, and I knew if I hopped off him, I would lose the unspoken battle. So, provocative position it was, then. I was a bit shaken, but I was definitely in control. I had always prided myself on my self-control, in all situations. I liked to think that I reasoned out and rationalized all things in my head, and though I was always easy to surprise, I hadn't panicked or acted truly rash in a situation since I was a child. My peers had even taken to calling me the_ Frozen Priestess_ in my youth, and I had only recently been able to escape that namesake with my journey to Stormwind.

But now I felt anything but frozen. I leaned forward, one hand resting on his right shoulder, my free hand bringing the washcloth up to his face. This position left very little space between us, and for the first time in my life I knew what feminine power felt like. His low growl vibrated beneath me, the lust in his eyes searing me as I brushed the dirt and blood off his cheeks and brow. I was playing with fire, I knew. I wasn't sure where my fear of getting burned had run off to.

"Lor," I whispered in my best seductive tone, almost right into his ear. I was on the verge of bursting into laughter as the idea formed in my mind. Though the temptation to flick my tongue out and lick him was there too, dangerously close to becoming a reality. I pulled back and forced my expression to look sincere. "Without all that dirt and blood you look so…." I bit my lower lip suggestively. _Sexy_, I thought. _"…Pretty."_

And then I broke into uncontrollable laughter as his face morphed from one of intense lust to mortification.

Without warning, he reached up and grabbed me around the back of my neck.

_So this is how I die_, I mused internally as Lor dragged me forward into his arms. He had bided his time, waited until I had felt comfortable enough to let my guard down. A spike of anger overwhelmed the fear I had instantly felt for my own demise, and I inhaled a lung full of air so I could scream my lungs out at him while he killed me. I give him a chance at life, and_ this_ is how he repays me? Perhaps my peers had been right, and blood elves were indeed the lowest of scum on Azeroth. My first impression of him had been wrong.

To say I was surprised when his lips touched mine is to put it mildly. My anger and fear instantly vanished, replaced by a combination of shock and emotions I don't particularly want to name.

The kiss was as rough as the man, hard and dominating, his tongue demanding entrance into my mouth like he already owned it. I'm ashamed to say my body instantly responded, and for all my boasted self-control, in that moment I had none. One hand still cupped the nape of my neck, and his other had weaved its way into my hair, effectively trapping me in his embrace. I was pressed against Lor's firm chest, my head angled back in a way that would have made me feel vulnerable had I not been overwhelmed with other, more distracting emotions.

I kissed him back with a vehemence that surprised me, my lung full of air whispering out in a soft sigh instead of a scream. Lor growled his approval when I began to respond, the noise a low, sexy rumble in his throat that sent not-unpleasant shivers down my spine. I dug my fingers into his hair and pressed myself more firmly against him, shifting my body so our hips pressed together, because it felt so damn good. I clung to him with a hunger I couldn't begin to fathom, and from the desperate nature of his kiss I knew he felt it as well. I opened my mouth to him and his tongue invaded, claiming my mouth like he wanted to claim my body, and by _Elune_ the man tasted like spring and sunshine and—

_"Chasidah!"_

The familiar and dreaded voice snapped me out of this sexual haze. Arthur was looking for me.

I flew off of Lor like I had been burned, doing an awkward scramble backwards until my back pressed against the tree behind me. His glowing green eyes held my own with an intensity that branded itself into my mind. Would a man ever look at me that way again? Probably not. Surely, that sort of heat and desire simply didn't happen in life more than once. His expression told me that if I went within grabbing distance of him, we would be continuing where we left off, and then some. It was a heady thing, having him look at me like that. I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

"I have to heal you _now_," I hissed, leaping back over to him. I picked up the damp cloth and quickly washed off his neck wound. There wasn't as much dirt in this one, but some hair had snaked its way in. I threw the washcloth aside after my quick series of swipes and pulled out the obvious strands of hair. I placed my hands on it then, focusing the entirety of my energy on healing him. _Elune, help me help him_, I silently prayed as I cast my most powerful healing spell, weaving back skin and muscle and tendons through the sheer force of my will. This spell was supposed to take time, but I didn't have any. I had played with him for too long. I hadn't expected the interruption. I felt that slight fel taint that all blood elves had, and found myself struggling against it.

_"Chasidah!"_

"Come _on!_" I seethed at what I couldn't see. That fel energy was disgusting, and I shuddered as I finally pushed it aside and finished the spell. When I opened my eyes, I was met with pink, mended skin. _"Thank you thank you thank you,"_ I chanted to Elune as I straddled him again, pressing both of my hands to his chest.

I had just enough magic left to repeat the spell I used on his neck. I concentrated so hard and used so much energy, I felt myself grow dizzy. I had never used my mana so fully. By the time I opened my eyes, I was completely drained. Lor's arms came up to my shoulders to steady me as I swayed. This wound wasn't nearly as well done as the first, but the bleeding had stopped and the worst of it was healed; but this would scar very badly. Blackness encroached on my vision while I tried to catch my breath.

_"Chasidah, where are you?!"_

Ah! In my extreme focus I had almost forgotten why I was rushing. My head whipped around to face the direction of the calls. I couldn't let him find Lor. He wouldn't hesitate to behead him.

"I have to go," I whispered, meeting a pair of incredulous green eyes. I didn't know if his expression was born from my quick heals or sudden departure."If this human finds you, he will kill you." Quite painfully, and quite publicly I would suspect.

I would never see Lor again, and this fact made me somewhat reckless. My curiosity was far from sated. There were too many unanswered questions. His dry wit and sharp mind had made his company more gratifying than most, if not all of the humans in Stormwind. And since I would never see him again, how could it possibly hurt?

His eyes widened in further surprise as I placed a soft kiss on his cold, chapped lips. _"Al diel shala,"_ I whispered against his mouth, secretly enjoying the astonishment that lit his features. _Safe travels_. One of the few phrases in Thalassian that I knew. I sincerely hoped he wouldn't die, and I felt my fear for him knot in my stomach.

"Thalassian suits you well," he rasped with a slight grin, having regained his composure. "_Shorel'aran_, pet. Do not worry for me. I will live, because of you." He leaned forward then, his breath mingling with mine. I thought he was about to kiss me again, but his expression turned cold. "The next time you see a wounded Horde in the forest, do not save him. He may not be as magnanimous as I." His voice was soft but laced with steel. I didn't move as he ran his fingers along my cheek and jaw. "Your compassion will get you killed. On the next full moon, I suggest you find someplace safe to stay for the night."

The words were ominous, and I stored them in a mental file for later examination. If I leaned an inch forward, I could kiss him again. I wanted to get lost in him. It was such a new feeling. When had losing control ever felt so good? _Treason, treason, treason _I repeated to myself. It was treason enough to save him, never mind the consequences of having intimate relations with him.

_"Chasdiah!"_ Closer, this time. I had to go.

Our gazes locked as I tore myself away from him. I shuffled through my bag, grabbing the bread I had wrapped for a snack along with my canteen. I placed them easily within his reach, trying not to fall flat on my face from exhaustion.

I turned to go, but paused as a sudden thought occurred to me. I reached up to the nape of my neck and unsnapped the buckle of my necklace. I had made it myself with my mother's help, one of a set of two. _If you ever meet someone who really makes an impression on you, give them one,_ she had told me. _Simple kindness goes a long way._

The silver pendent gleamed in the moonlight as I held it in front of me, the delicate chain unhooked for the first time in years. The pendent was that of a crescent moon, because I had always found them so beautiful. While most night elves enjoyed the moon most when it was full, I found I could appreciate Elune's beauty far more with the subtle mystery a crescent moon always presented, bathing the night in the faintest of lights.

Averting my eyes, I crouched briefly and placed the necklace within his reach.

_This man is going to haunt me for a long time_, I thought as I spun around and ran. I didn't look back.

...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"So you are telling me that a wolf attacked you, and that's where all this blood is from?"

"Yes."

"You don't have a scratch on you."

"I'm not as awful a fighter as you think, Arthur." _I totally am._ "The wolves here aren't exactly overflowing with power."

"You're hiding something."

I sighed. I was a terrible liar. It just didn't come naturally to me. My eyes traveled to the crackling fire in the hearth far to my left, and I wished I had a mage's teleportation abilities so I could enjoy its warmth. Then again, I'd probably curl up in front of it and sleep like a nightsaber cub if I managed to make it over there. No way was I walking. Right now, I wasn't even sure if I'd have enough energy to get to my reserved room. This inn was quite lovely with its wooden, homey look. Too bad I couldn't enjoy it.

"Did you want something to…ah…drink?" The bartender asked, his eyes widening when he looked at me.

I braced my hands on the countertop in front of me. Elune, I was tired. I felt like I was about to fall out of my chair. Looking down, I cringed at my appearance. People had been giving me strange looks since we had walked in the door to Lion's Pride Inn, for obvious reasons. All the patrons were about as far away from me as they could get. I couldn't wait to get out of this dress. There was dirt all over the skirt, and the bottom was torn. Worst of all was the giant red streak down the front from when Lor had pressed me to his chest to kiss me. My heart skipped a beat at the memory. _That must have been painful for him_, I considered in retrospect.

"You're getting that faraway look again." Arthur grumbled.

I snapped back to attention. "Sorry." I glanced towards the bartender, who still watched me warily. "No thanks," I said. My mind couldn't stop wandering, replaying the scenes over and over again in my mind. How many times would I relive them? I had to write them down. Tomorrow, when I could see straight.

"I'll have a whisky," Arthur told the bartender.

I cradled my head in my hands, my elbows on the counter. Arthur had been my friend, once, years ago. Arthur "The Faithful", as he was typically called, was very easy to like. Until you disagreed with him—then all that paladin chivalry had a tendency to vanish. The only faithfulness he truly had was to himself. He was nice looking, for a human. He had cropped blond hair and a warrior's body, but his personality made his physical attractiveness meaningless.

The fact that I used to be friends with him made our interactions now feel even more tense and awkward than need be. I'd rather be caught complimenting a blood elf's eyes than have a conversation with this man-boy. Since I had come to Stormwind for my sabbatical, to say he was showing a… _renewed interest _in me was putting it lightly.

"I was worried when you weren't here, you know."

"Why were you following me? I told you I was leaving Stormwind for the day." It was difficult to keep the annoyance out of my voice. He shadowed me around like I was a hunter and he was my pet. It was beginning to get ridiculous, and was in part why I decided to take a break from Stormwind in the first place.

"I thought you might want some company…" He trailed off. The words were innocent enough, but that look in his eyes told me the true meaning of his statement.

"Don't be a stalker. It's weird. I'm going to clean up and go to bed." And by that I meant I was going to pass out the moment I was in private.

I slid off the bar stool and made to head for the stairs, but he placed his hand on my arm before I could take a step. I struggled to hold in my shudder of revulsion. I'd seen too much of his evil to ever hold affection for him again.

"Chasidah, don't you miss our friendship?"

I laughed without humor. "Arthur, please go back to Stormwind."

I wanted to tell him off, I really did. But I wasn't a belligerent person, and I had no desire to start a confrontation. I was exhausted. I could barely keep my eyes open.

"Tomorrow, then," he nodded with a frown. Something dark passed through his eyes. He was unhappy with me now, and I was entirely apathetic. My mind had more important things to dwell on, like sleep.

After entering my room, I shut and locked the door quickly behind me. I disrobed as fast as I possibly could and collapsed into the inn's bed, nearly face first.

My thoughts traveled to the Thalassian book I had tucked away in my bag. I had been planning on reading it some on my walk tonight. I found the book a few months back in the bowels of a ship and had never told anyone. It was extremely taboo for a night elf to learn Thalassian—it was _beneath_ us, so my teachers told me in my youth. Even though the language is so similar to our own Darnassian, I hadn't been able to get much more than those basic parting words I had told Lor. Then again, I had only looked at it a few times, and never very seriously.

I sensed a new obsession coming on.

I had a lot on my list of things to do in the morning when I returned to Stormwind. Dust the floors of the Cathedral, organize the books that somehow found themselves completely out of order each week, bring Bishop Farthing's robe to be mended, avoid bumping into Arthur…

…And to analyze one white-haired, green-eyed blood elf's warnings.

I woke up with a start.

I shot out of bed, heart pounding. I hadn't even dreamed. In fact, if I hadn't seen the sun shining brightly through the curtains, I would've believed I'd only been asleep for a few minutes, if at all.

Something was wrong. I felt it heavy in the air.

I picked up what used to be my nice white dress and shoved it in the trash. I donned my Avatar Raiment as quickly as possible, the familiar grey robes comforting me. Pulling the hood up to shroud my face, I snatched my bag and walked cautiously out of the room.

_There's no sound_, I realized suddenly. That's why it was so creepy.

When I reached the first floor of the Inn, I was surprised to find people there. I think part of me had been expecting an abandoned village.

"What's wrong?" I asked the bartender as I edged over to the stool I had sat on last night.

He looked at me with wide, fearful eyes. "Three people went missing last night."

Fear shot through me like a hunter's arrow. _He wouldn't do that._

Right?

"Who, where?" I asked, my voice hushed.

"Down near the logging camp. Two young mage girls and a warlock," he shifted nervously, avoiding eye contact with me. "They found blood and evidence of a fight, and the Stormwind guard has advised everyone to stay in town unless they have an escort."

What if Lor _had _done it? What if I had saved him, and he had gone and taken those girls?

Guilt hit me hard. It could've been a coincidence, sure. But that seemed unlikely.

I nodded at the bartender in thanks. "Elune bless them all," I whispered as I exited the melancholy inn to enter the melancholy town. I felt the people's fear and saw it in the way their eyes darted back and forth, as if they were waiting for something to jump out of a shadow and attack them. I felt rather uneasy myself.

I just wish I knew whether it was my fault.

"Are you Chasidah Dreamwalker?"

I spun around, only to find two Stormwind guards blocking the door I had just exited.

"Y-yes," I stuttered, a terrifying realization dawning the instant I saw their harsh stares.

Someone had reported my appearance last night. How suspicious had I been? Coming in with blood all over me, three girls mysteriously going missing at the same time. I was a fool not to make the connection when the bartender looked like he wanted to dive out the window just to get away from me this morning.

_Elune, help me_. A sickening sense of dread clenched its hand around my heart. This wouldn't end well.

**_One month later…_**

I couldn't get him out of my head. He was driving me crazy. I had written every detail of our encounter in my journal, but I just couldn't get it out of my system.

Had he done it? Was he the reason I had sat in this jail cell for the past month? He had told me that my compassion would be my downfall, after all.

I let the journal slip from my fingers. I absently noted the dull thud as it hit the floor. It was one of only three items they had allowed me to keep. Mostly because I wouldn't stop complaining until they gave me it, and they just wanted me to shut up.

The moon had almost completed its cycle since I had been thrown unceremoniously inside this dreary place. I didn't have a window in here, so it was just my instinct that told me of the passage of time. I missed the night sky, and I had even reverted back to my nocturnal tendencies. It was sunset now, but I knew there was going to be a full moon again tonight. His warning repeated itself yet again in my mind: _On the next full moon, I suggest you find someplace safe to stay for the night._

Well, I couldn't get much safer than here, that's for sure.

Depression and listlessness were starting to hit me, hard. I had been avoiding it by trying to keep my mind occupied, but I noticed my energy decreasing with each day that passed. I didn't like monotony, and this lifestyle was the epitome of the word. I had yet to have a trial, and I had had no visitors. Not even Arthur. He probably didn't want to ruin his image.

Nothing kills self-worth like feeling meaningless.

I had no family. I had no friends. I hadn't felt so alone since my mother died. I didn't even have lots of books to occupy my mind with. I'd already translated the Thalassian book, the second item they had let me keep. They hadn't opened it when they tossed it in here with me, thank Elune, so they didn't know what it was I'd been filling my mind with for the past month. My knowledge of the language had increased more than a hundred fold. It was the only thing I could really focus on and feel like I was being somewhat productive. The book itself was positively boring, following a blood elf as he whined and complained about everything everywhere and slowly fell into madness. I had just finished the translation a few days before; it hadn't been easy. Many of the words that crossed over with Darnassian had changed meaning somewhere along the way.

I had days and days of time to think and be existential and philosophical and all other sorts of things that are generally bad for mental health when done in excessive amounts. I dwelled on the state of my life until I thoroughly came to the realization that I was getting nowhere by dwelling on the state of my life. Did I only heal because I liked feeling useful? Like I had some sort of purpose?

My fingers brushed against my neck automatically, seeking the comfort of the necklace I wore. I used to have two there, but now only one remained. A certain blood elf had the other, if he hadn't just thrown it in the lake instead.

Or broken it in half while cackling madly, knowing my fate would lie in a dungeon for the rest of my existence.

Yet somewhere in my bored, listless mind was hope. I got that from my mother. She'd always had so much optimism, and I had inherited just enough of it to survive this dreadful place. She would've made the best out of this situation. She probably would've befriended the guard so she could've had someone to talk to. She probably wouldn't have gotten herself into this situation in the first place.

"Get her out. Now." The familiar voice had my head snapping up. For the first time in my life, I was actually happy to see Arthur as he opened the door to my cell.

"So _now _you're happy to see me?"

My smile fell. That happiness wasn't long lived when I glimpsed the dark expression on his face as two guards came in to haul me out. I grabbed my journal and hugged it to my chest while they pushed me. I stumbled forward from the suddenness of the movement.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

His smile was cold as he held up his hand for the guards to stop pushing me forward. They held onto my forearms with a painful grip as Arthur came to stand directly in front of me.

He snatched the journal from my fingers without warning, opened it and tore out the first page.

"You _troll!"_ I screamed, struggling with the guards, but their grip didn't falter. I was instantly furious as he began tearing out page after page. _How dare he?!_ I felt my heart break a little with each piece that fluttered to the floor. "You _bastard!_ You know what those mean to me!"

"You won't need it where you're going, bitch."

I hissed, casting my Chastise spell without hesitation. I knew it would do nothing for me but raise his ire and give me the satisfaction of watching him drop my journal, but it was worth it.

Three seconds later, when the spell wore off, he closed the distance between us with fury burning fiercely in his eyes. His hand came up to my throat and I started doubting the intelligence of casting that spell.

"Where you're going," he spat, "they will kill you for something like that." His hand was tight on my throat, and I was having difficulties breathing. "You're going to be someone's toy, you know that? You're going to have all that dignity and superiority raped out of you. They will break you, and I will laugh."

I glared at him, showing more bravado than I felt. His words had frightened me. I had known Arthur had a darker side, but this was far worse than even I had imagined. "So long as I don't have to see you anymore, it will likely be worth it."

_"Bitch!"_ He hissed. He'd never had any self-control, and I knew I had it coming. His fist connected with my jaw and my head whipped to the side. The sting of pain was instant and made my eyes water. Nothing was broken, but that would bruise. I was just happy he didn't have his gauntlets on.

Without further delay, Arthur spun around and marched out of the cell, being sure to kick my journal across the floor on the way out. I said goodbye to it in my mind, promising I would lament its loss at a later time. I cast my one real offensive spell on it, which was so weak it hardly affected anything living. But it was enough to get my journal to burst into flames. There was no way I was ever letting anyone read that book, for it was a clear window into my soul. I couldn't stop the tears and averted my eyes from the smoldering book, which was now a fairly accurate representation of my life.

The guards still held my forearms and kept jerking me forward, which made walking significantly more tedious than normal. When we exited the dungeon, I was surprised to see two human men and a draenei woman in chains being escorted with me. _I'm the only one not in chains_, I mulled. Probably because they knew I couldn't do more than stun them, like I had done to Arthur moments before. And I could only use that spell once in a while, otherwise I would've been stunning everyone and getting out of here.

The other captives didn't make eye contact with me as we walked. There was the same solemnity that I would imagine prisoners experience when walking to their own executions. Yet even so, I couldn't help but smile when we walked outside and I saw the moon for the first time in a month.

_Elune, don't abandon me now._

"Knock her out."

Oh, no. I expected a blow to the skull as I was gagged and blindfolded, but none came. _This is the last time I allow this to happen,_ I growled internally. _I'm learning how to defend myself, and then I will kick Arthur's ass so hard he will land in Outland._

I smiled coldly at the image. I really wasn't a violent person. Typically I didn't even swear, never mind wish such ill upon someone. But in that moment, my icy anger was the only thing damping down my fear.

"Sleep," whispered a human._ Mage_, I confirmed as my mind began to fuzz. At least I wouldn't lose brain cells from being hit. I had a feeling I would need those brain cells to survive this.

The world went dark.

…

Nothing feels better than being awakened with a hard slap to the face.

"Put this on," a woman told me gruffly in Common. I didn't want to open my eyes, but I pried them open anyways just in time to see the orc drop an article of clothing on my face. If it could even be called an article of clothing. I sat up, noting the ache in my jaw as I held up this… _dress?_ …in front of me.

It could hardly be called a dress, it was so tiny. It was black, with what looked like a swooping neckline, no back and the tiniest of skirts. _Prostitution?_ I wondered as I looked around me.

I was in a room full of Alliance women of all races, some awake and others still knocked out. A lot of them looked like they were in even rougher shape than I was. Horde guards were interspersed among us, and I knew there would be no getting out of this. At least the guards were female.

"Do you know where we are?" I whispered to the human woman beside me. She was already in her tiny black dress, her eyes off someplace far away. She looked even younger than me.

"No," she said, voice bleak.

I nodded. I had expected as much.

And then I fully woke up. And realized I wasn't wearing any clothing.

With a gasp I pulled the dress over my head, feeling embarrassed beyond words. No one had even given me a second glance, and I had been so distracted by the situation that I hadn't even noticed the absurd fact that my robes were gone.

My journal was gone, my robes were gone; my life would probably be gone soon too. My hands flew quickly to my neck and I let out a great sigh of relief when the cool metal of my necklace met my questing fingers.

I could handle this, one step at a time.

Hours passed. Nothing happened except for the occasional addition to our family of scantily clad women. I recited Thalassian phrases in my mind to keep myself calm. There wasn't anything interesting to look at. The room was really just a grey box with nothing in it besides us. The mood was low, and no one spoke to each other. My antisocial self was even tempted to go around shaking people, just to see if they were really alive behind their deadpan expressions.

"Ladies, behave and you will be just fine." The orc that had given me my dress addressed the room. They were such ugly creatures, with their green skin and bulky bodies, but her face was kinder than that of the other Horde faces here. "You will all be given a number. I suggest you come when you are called." There were probably thirty of us now, and I didn't know whether I wanted to be first or last. Get it over with, or delay the inevitable?

I was given a slip of paper with a _9_ written on it. _Nine people until what?_ I wondered. Until I was beheaded? Until a bunch of men ganged up on me and stole my virginity? It was the second longest wait of my life.

"Number eight."

One more to go. _Oh Elune, don't let me die here. _Though there were certainly worse fates than death. I didn't want that either.

A few more minutes passed. "Number nine."

I stood up, muscles tense, adrenaline causing my heart to thump hard in my chest. I was pushed out of the door I'd seen the other girls go through. It opened into a long stone hallway, and my sensitive ears began picking up the noise of a large crowd.

The door at the end of the hall opened.

I was shoved forcefully into the small arena, falling to my knees on the harsh cold of the stone flooring. I was in the center, the lights absolutely blinding. My hands were suddenly tied behind me, and I had never felt so exposed in my life as I did then, prostrate for all the world to see. The floor was ringed in a cage, making me feel like some animal on display. I narrowed my eyes at the crowd I couldn't see. I had no idea how big it was, and I couldn't see them because the light was just too bright. But I could hear them, and what I heard had my blood running cold.

A man's voice spoke clearly as he walked in behind me. He was a male blood elf with hair as black as night and eyes as cold as Northrend. He cleared his throat, and the arena went silent.

He began speaking loudly, and it took me a few seconds to realize he was speaking Thalassian. After each sentence he would pause, and the little green goblin behind him would translate it into what sounded like Orcish. I focused all of my concentration on the elf.

"…_female night elf_…something something _priest_ something _short but pretty_, something something _three hundred flowers."_

I frowned. Flowers? Three hundred flowers?

_Gold!_ He had said gold. Hearing Thalassian was infinitely more difficult than reading it. He spoke way too fast.

What did I have to do with gold? _You sure you don't know the answer to this, Chasidah?_

_No way_, I thought. Was this a…_ slave _auction? Did those exist? Were they seriously betting on me right now? I searched deep within me for my magic, not that it would help me anyways. But I couldn't feel its comforting warmth. My wrist bindings were warded somehow.

"Three hundred!" Someone called out from the crowd in Thalassian.

"Five hundred!"

They were doing it. I was being auctioned off like a nice set of armor. The blood elf came up behind me and grabbed my hair, pulling it back painfully so I was forced to look up. I bit my lip to stop from crying out.

"Something _young_, something something!" He called out to the cheering multitudes. My Thalassian was even worse than I thought it was, because I really had no idea what he was saying.

"Six hundred!"

"Milk hundred!" No, that was eight.

The next one was complete gibberish, so probably Orcish.

"Eight fifty!"

"Eight seventy-five!"

_"Five thousand."_

The arena went silent. My heart nearly flew out of my mouth and my eyes sought the face of the voice, even though it was a futile endeavor. I couldn't see a thing beyond these lights, but that didn't much matter. I had recognized that voice.

Perhaps I should have expected it.

_Lor just bought me._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was going to be a trap. I was almost certain.

I pretended not to pay attention— sprawled out on the floor like I was, that wasn't exactly difficult. My hands were still tied and they had clipped a collar around my neck, thankfully not noticing my thin silver necklace in the dim lighting. The collar was leather and attached to a thick chain that the goblin held with both hands. I felt like a pet worg.

I was in a different room now. The past few minutes had gone by in a blur as I was pushed through hallway after hallway. I had been surprised by the frenzy that had ensued, but now there was an eerie silence, like the calm before a storm. The floor was cold and I was starting to shiver almost uncontrollably. I wasn't wearing warm clothing; my dress was essentially equivalent to nudity in respect to its heat retention capabilities.

The goblin began speaking, but I could only catch some of the words. _"…gold first… foolish…bad business… why…Lor'themar…?"_

The blood elf shrugged at whatever question the goblin had asked.

_Lor'themar_, I played with the strangely familiar name in my mind. Where had I heard it before? I couldn't recall, but I knew it couldn't be a coincidence considering that a blood elf named _Lor _was about to make an appearance. Hopefully.

It was sort of odd attaching that name to him. It sounded so regal, so polished.

Both of my captors were scared and I wondered why. I peered up at them from beneath my dirty, snarled hair. I had gotten the impression that these were professionals. Everything thus far had seemed second nature to them, like they had done it a million times. What was it with this transaction that had them so riled? The gold involved? Their eyes kept darting to the doorway, like they were waiting for a reincarnation of Deathwing to come bursting through. The goblin was holding my chain so hard I thought it might phase through his fingers, and the blood elf kept nervously tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, even though it was already behind his ear.

Was Lor so terrifying that these men feared him? Was I hopping out of a hurricane and into the Maelstrom?

Ugh, thinking hurt. I was starting to get a headache. _Dehydration_, my logic told me. And perhaps malnourishment. And stress.

_"…capture alive…gold_," the blood elf finished.

I struggled to keep my expression blank and my breathing normal. Definitely a trap. I doubted they were talking about my capture. The thought of them attacking Lor sent a shiver of foreboding up my spine. Was he someone important? How on Azeroth could he afford to pay five thousand gold for me if he wasn't?

How would I warn him? I certainly couldn't just blurt it out, could I?

By Elune, I had no idea what to do!

_"…act normal._" I caught the end of the goblin's sentence before they both went silent and ramrod straight. I held my breath, muscles tensing.

When I saw the object of my obsession for the past month walk through the door, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to leap into his arms with joy or punch him square in the face.

As it was, I could do neither.

I had been planning on playing it cool and acting like I didn't recognize him, but I couldn't stop myself from gaping and staring for just a few moments.

Now that he wasn't dying, his skin was back to a normal healthy shade. His white hair was neat and silky, tied in a simple low ponytail. I sort of wanted to touch it. A black mask covered the lower half of his face, but I would still know him anywhere simply by the scar across his left eye. He had such a presence about him, and it wasn't the kind of presence one got from being a spy or a criminal. Though he was certainly dressed like one, all in black leather.

If a half-dead Lor had the ability to make my breath catch in my throat, this one had the ability to make me forget breathing was necessary at all.

And he was about to be _killed_ if I didn't pull my brain back down from whatever cloud it had flown off to. He didn't even stop to glance at me, which I had to hope was just an act. Had he acted differently in the forest just so I would save him? What was his _real _personality like?

_You have to warn him! _My common sense came back to me and an idea formed quickly. I gave him the most disgusted look I could conjure. It wasn't hard, I just had to think of Arthur.

"_This is a trap_," I spat at Lor in Darnassian. I was betting my life on the fact that neither that goblin nor the black-haired blood elf would know what I was saying, and would think I was insulting him.

Lor didn't make eye contact with me as I said the words. He didn't even flinch. The only sign that he heard me was in the brief widening of his eyes. The goblin jerked on my chain and I gasped at the sudden jarring, but I could tell by the fact that I was still breathing that neither of them had understood.

"Good evening," he addressed my captors; his voice was silky smooth, fake. Lor didn't sound particularly happy.

His eyes finally flickered to mine, his hard expression softening. "Breathe, pet," he said in Darnassian.

Oh yes. That was useful. I inhaled a giant lung full of air, averting my gaze and pretending like I hadn't just been devouring him with my eyes and forgetting basic bodily functions. Though the whole _pet _thing hit a lot closer to home now, what with the collar and all.

_"You have the gold?"_ The goblin questioned, unable to hide the slight waver in his voice. There was no doubt in my mind now that I had been correct. This was a trap, and Lor had some sort of reputation. The goblin looked like he was about to soil his pants when Lor took another step towards him.

_"Of course,"_ he replied coolly, as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Two orc warriors suddenly appeared at the entrance of the door behind him, garbed in menacing plate armor. I would've yelled in warning had I not seen Lor's icy grin. He knew they were there, all right. I almost pitied them. But not really.

Lor's voice was soft but deadly. "Band'or shorel'aran." _Prepare to say farewell_. I observed him with interest as he crouched like a cat, unsheathing his blades in a way that told me he had done this countless times. He even looked…_eager?_

A loud crash followed by screams and a deafening explosion paused whatever confrontation was about to occur. The earth rumbled violently and I struggled to keep my face from slamming into the floor. The goblin stumbled, not letting go of my chain, and I was wrenched forward painfully with the motion.

Lor swore loudly before dashing over to me. Without hesitation he slashed the goblin's neck and kicked the charging blood elf in the gut before kneeling down beside me and slicing through my bindings. I watched with horror as blood sprayed and the goblin gave a final, shuddering gurgle.

_Focus on the important stuff_. Like the fact that my wrists were free. I brought them in front of me and moved them around slowly, wiggling my fingers. They ached from the tight bonds, but no serious damage had been done. I pushed myself up to sit normally, but another explosion had me grasping onto Lor like a lifeline as the structure shook. I looked up and wondered absently if, after all I'd been through, it would be a falling ceiling that finally took me out.

Still grasping Lor's shoulders, I turned and our eyes met. I said the first random thing that came to mind.

"You look much better when you're not dying."

"You really know how to flatter a man."

How could he make me smile so easily? Yet smiling I was, after being horrified only moments before from a bloody killing. My emotions were so fickle as of late. He pushed my hair aside and felt around the collar on my neck.

"So one of the orc's told me," I lied, covering my increased knowledge of Thalassian, "_Five thousand_ gold? _Seriously?_ Did you not think that would be the least bit suspicious?"

"I was in something of a rush." His lips curved into a wicked half smile. My eyebrows shot up as he wiggled the chain out of the hoop attaching it to my collar.

"And you didn't think offering one or two thousand would be sufficient?"

He leaned forward, breath hot in my ear. "I'll admit that I wasn't thinking rationally at the time. There was this pretty little night elf on the stage in front of me."

And there it was, that spark of heat inside me that only he had the ability to ignite. I squashed it down, my eyes staring pointedly over his shoulder as he pulled back, the earth trembling yet again.

"No worries, pet. I haven't forgotten."

It seemed there was only one orc left, the other one having been pinned under some falling debris. He swung his battle axe at Lor's throat but Lor spun dizzyingly fast, parrying it with a dagger and doing some weird, twisty slide-under-the-axe move that got him on the outside of the warrior where he easily slit the orc's throat.

The man had some experience with killing.

In a blur I was on his back, clinging to him for dear life as he ran. I held onto him with the last of my strength, his arms looped around my thighs to help hold me up. His warmth made up for the chill of the wind, and I buried my face in his shoulder, trying to ignore the unstable structure around us.

My eyes widened when we finally busted out of the facility. It was actually a series of tunnels we had been in, and large amounts of explosives were being set off at what I assumed were strategic locations. There was a full-on battle happening, though I didn't know who the parties involved were. I grew nauseous. _So much blood_. Even the land and trees were all tinged a sickly shade of redish brown. _The Eastern Plaguelands?_ My sense of time had been completely thrown off, and I couldn't even tell what time of day it was here. Lor skirted around the edge of the fighting until we were on the side with an overabundance of blood elves.

"_Shindu falla na!_" the words rang out loudly across the field, over the metallic clang of swords and the wretched screams of death. I searched for the speaker but couldn't find him in the fray.

"They knew we were coming," Lor growled, anger radiating off of him in waves. He yelled something loudly in Thalassian and the elves began to fall back.

"_You…right… spy..."_ Another voice, now. This one behind us. Lor turned quickly, his posture straightening. My translating was getting worse as my energy waned. In fact, I didn't get a single word of the tense exchange that happened at that point. I was too focused on not falling off of him. The elf he spoke to looked like some kind of general, perhaps. He wore deep blue mail armor and had overly dramatic flowing blonde hair that would have made me laugh had I not been on the verge of collapsing.

When I came out of my daze I was cradled in his arms. I didn't even recall getting into that position. I couldn't quite stop myself from curling into his warmth. He smelled like forests, but with a spice that was all his own. At this point I was about ready to drown in that smell; it was such a relief from my month devoid of all positive sensory stimulation.

"What happened?" I asked drowsily.

"We've retreated; our men are heading back to Silvermoon. We'd been prepared to strike down this operation for weeks, but we have a leak from somewhere up high. They knew we were coming." His tone was understandably harsh. "I also knew you would end up there somehow. Why didn't you stay someplace safe, like I told you to?"

I didn't look up at him. My face was too comfortable smashed into his warm chest. "I've been in jail for a month. I wasn't exactly in control of my movements."

He froze in his steps. "What did you do?"

"Ha," I snorted without humor, "What did I do? Why, I arrived in town covered in blood on the same night three people went missing. That's what."

"Damn."

"That was pretty much my sentiment. I was worried _you_ were their abductor, and I felt terribly guilty."

His hold on me tightened. "It wasn't me."

I sighed, feeling my consciousness starting to slip. "I know," I reassured him. He continued walking forward.

"You feel like a feather. You've lost at least fifteen pounds. When did you last eat?"

"Don't remember."

"When did you last drink?"

"Don't remember."

"How were they expecting to sell you if you died?" He sounded aghast, like he was about to go over there and argue them in regards to their slave-trade business model.

"Strangely they didn't tell me." I replied dryly. I finally pried my eyes open, daring to take in my surroundings.

We were with the blood elf soldiers. Some of them were on those crazy bird things, but at least half of them were walking. There were quite a few injured being carried, and I automatically reached for my healing magic, but it wasn't there. Those wrist bands had totally sucked the mana out of me, and it had barely begun to replenish itself.

The general mood was one of anger, and we were getting more than a few glances. It didn't pass my notice that Lor was being saluted left and right. I was the only one they were staring daggers at.

"You know, they all sort of look like they want to kill me."

"Probably because they do."

"Well that's comforting," I murmured, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck.

Green, glowing eyes followed us. They were all pointed at me with a look of undisguised hatred and disgust. It's not like I was some big fan of the Horde, but this felt a bit extreme, like my presence was somehow a personal insult to them.

Just who was Lor to these people?

"Try not to make eye contact. Ever, actually. So long as we are in public, that includes me."

My jaw dropped as I stopped glancing around to look him right in the eye. "Why?"

"You will also refer to me as Master in public, as is proper." He sounded almost nervous about this, as if he expected me to lash out at the idea.

Lashing out was indeed tempting. Some small feminist part of me wanted to slap him, but that would achieve nothing. Besides, I had to gain his trust if I was ever planning on escaping, which I was. I just didn't know how or when or where. I brought my gaze down obediently.

"I have to act like your slave?"

I didn't have to look up to know that those eyes narrowed into emerald green slits. "Pet, you don't have to _act _like you're my slave. You _are_ my slave."

"_What_?" I gaped, hardly believing my ears. I don't know what I had expected. I mean, he _had_ just bought me, and nearly killed himself in doing so. It only made sense that he would keep me, but I had just thought… well, I don't know what I had thought.

"Of course, _Master,_" I corrected myself, unable to stop a little sarcasm from creeping into my voice.

His quiet chuckle made my hair stand on end. My Chastise spell was on the tip of my tongue. I had just enough mana for it. "Your feigned obedience won't fool me, pet. You may act tame but I bet you're as feral as they come."

"Feral?" I repeated incredulously. "That's the last word people would describe me with."

"You hide it well, don't you?"

I didn't respond. I'd never thought of myself that way. It's true that very little got through that filter between thoughts and actions— but my only wild thoughts tended to orbit entirely around him.

"I'm not asking you to do this because I get some perverse pleasure out of it," he told me before halting again in his steps. I felt his steady gaze on me, but refused to meet it, as was _proper_ for an elf of my lowly station.

He continued walking. "Actually, perhaps I do find a bit of perverse pleasure in it, but that's still not why I'm asking you to do it."

I rolled my eyes and couldn't prevent the short laugh that escaped my lips. "At least you're honest. Please enlighten me, _Master_," …this was really going to take some getting used to…"why it is you want me to refer to you as such."

"This world is all about appearances. What is your full name?"

I frowned, my mind so focused on the first half of his sentence that I wasn't really thinking when I gave him the answer to the second half. "Chasidah Dreamwalker."

The lighting changed abruptly, and when I opened my eyes I realized we were in a tent. I must have dozed off for a moment or two. The tent was quite small, containing only a cot with a small pillow and a blanket thrown on top

"Miss Walker, if your King Varian walked into Stormwind one day with a female orc in his arms, and then treated her like an equal, how would the Alliance react?"

_Miss Walker?_ That might even be worse than pet. "They'd probably be appalled unless there was a really good reason for it," I conceded with a frown. That was quite the extreme case that he gave, but I supposed a similar concept would likely apply to him.

"Precisely. What could I possibly tell them that wouldn't make me look weak or traitorous? Remember that we are in opposing factions, pet. The more you are exposed to war, the greater that divide will become in your mind. It's the just the way of things."

"Am I allowed to look you in the eyes now, since we are alone?" I inquired as he placed me gently onto the cot. I sat down awkwardly, unsure how I felt about everything. There was nothing tangible for me to grab onto anymore in my life. When I was young, it was my mother. Then it was my journals and books. My books and old journals lay a continent away in a storage container in Darnassus, and my latest journal was ashes on the floor of a jail cell. The only rock I had to grasp onto was kneeling in front of me.

"Of course," he said as if it should have been obvious to me. Talk about mixed messages.

Our eyes met. He looked as tired as I felt. "Thank you for… getting me." I refused to say _buying_. But I knew when to count my blessings. I could've ended this day beaten, bloody, broken and raped. I was none of those things, and for that I was deeply grateful.

He frowned, his hand brushing my cheek. I winced at the soreness there. "Who hit you?" His words were sharp and anger flared in his eyes.

"Just some troll of a human, nothing to do about it now." His eyes narrowed at my dismissal of the subject. To be honest, I just never wanted to see or think about Arthur again. Ever.

"You need sleep," he said suddenly, unhooking a canteen from his waist. _My canteen_, I thought as he brought it to my lips. I drank greedily until I had finished every last drop. I was so thirsty I had almost forgotten I was thirsty. "That was probably the best water I have ever had."

"Dehydration has a way with doing that." His hand brushed along my neck, to the collar I still wore. I would be bruised there as well. _Breathe, Chasidah._ I forced air in and out of my lungs. His touch was dangerous. _Everything _about him was dangerous. This was a blood elf I should be avoiding like the scourge.

His hand lingered. "We'll figure out how to get this off when you awaken."

What was it I saw in his eyes when he looked at me? I could never tell. Those green orbs traveled slowly down my body, and I instantly felt self-conscious. I looked down at what he must be seeing. I was still wearing that skimpy black cloth that hardly passed for a dress, and I was terribly dirty. I probably smelled bad too, and my hair was dull and snarled. My eyes snapped back up at his low growl, but he had already turned to leave so I couldn't gauge his emotions. The loss of his touch… Why, I didn't care one bit, thank you very much.

Lies, lies, lies.

I didn't have the energy to analyze anything that had happened today. Maybe one of these days I could interact with Lor without being exhausted or in a life or death situation. That would be superb.

I fell back onto the pillow. This wasn't the most comfortable of beds, but in this moment it felt so good it could've been worthy of Elune herself.

"Chasidah, she's alive?"

Was that… my mother's voice? My eyes snapped open and I was lying on a cold dirt floor, the air frigid, the smell putrid. I scrunched my face in displeasure, wondering how I got here, my eyes searching for my mother. My mother that I hadn't seen since that day she had died over ten years ago.

My breath left me all at once, as if punched in the gut.

She looked as if she had been crucified; her head hung forward, tangled purple hair covering a face that I knew I would recognize. Her arms were strained, cuffs digging into her skin and separated far enough that it must have been torture to bare the weight of her body on them. Her shirt was torn, lacerations marring her pale skin, her pants tattered and stained heavily with blood; so much so that it dripped from the bottoms and pooled onto the floor. I could barely see her face but I knew it was her.

My hand flew to my mouth in horror. "Mother!" I cried, pushing myself up off the floor and rushing forward. There were people there, standing around her. The group looked predominantly night elf, but there were definitely other races mixed in as well. One moved slightly and blocked my view of her, and as I went to push him aside I found that I stumbled right through him.

I stumbled _through_ him! Like I was a wisp, intangible.

I had to be dreaming. Dreams had never been this real for me, and this was a horrible time for that to change. But no one noticed me as I continued to walk through them, and I could see no other way for that to be possible.

I stood in front of my mother and felt tears gathering in my eyes, hating whoever these men were. I turned around to look at them, but their faces were shrouded with hoods and masks. How stereotypical and frustrating.

"Yes, but not for long. She is with the Regent." This was a female voice, and it held a mixture of disgust and pleasure. I eyed the woman; her glowing green eyes the only defining feature I could make out in her current attire. Blood elf, then.

"Oh, Elune," my mother whispered in horror. I turned back to her, reaching out to touch her. But my hand only felt air, the fingers brushing through her pain twisted face like it wasn't even there. She looked older than I remembered, but her delicate features were just as beautiful.

"And you, my lady," the woman continued, "are going to tell us who her _real _mother is."

And then she punched my mother in the face. I screamed, lashing out, crying, but it did nothing. I just had to watch as my mother's head snapped to the side, eyes rolling back in pain, her attacker snickering all the while. I couldn't help, I was so useless! I _hated_ being useless! And I _hated_ that woman! So help me, if she touched my m—

_Chasidah,_ came a voice in my mind. Soft, soothing, male. It was distant, but I couldn't focus on it because I was so angry, wanted to yell and scream at everyone in the room. I got in their faces but they couldn't see me, couldn't hear me.

How _dare _they hit my mother! I tried to cast magic, but nothing happened. I was _useless! _I was _always_ useless!

_Pet, you need to wake up_.

I…I was dreaming. I had almost forgotten. I rubbed my eyes, which had always worked in the past, but nothing happened. "I can't," I cried at the dark ceiling. I was stuck in my own dream. How pathetic.

"Don't want to talk?" That horrible elf was speaking again. She slapped my mother across the face.

_"Damn it!"_ I cried, falling to my knees. Tears of frustration streamed down my face. There was nothing I could do to help her. Nothing.

_Chasidah, come back to me,_ the voice whispered again. Come back where? Why? To whom?

_"Who was her mother?!"_ The blood elf yelled. My mother spat at her, and the woman cursed, wiping it off her cheek.

"You're gunna pay for that, bitch."

No! _No!_ I was going to find these people and when I—

_Miss Walker,_ _if you don't come back to me now I will never let you kiss me again._

Wait, what? Kiss? Why on Azeroth was someone talking to me about _kissing_ at a time like this?

Was that Lor's voice? He _would_ say something absurdly arrogant like that. _Lor! _How could I be sleeping when—

My eyes flew open and I was awake, panting, gasping, tears running down my face, shaking, sweating, dying inside.

I was sitting in Lor's lap, still on the tiny cot, and I didn't even care because the only thing I could hear was the last lingering cry of my mother.

"Oh Elune oh Elune oh Elune," I rambled, sobbing into Lor's naked chest. His arms were wrapped around me, one of his hands gently caressing my hair, the other resting on my lower back.

"My _mother,"_ I cried, digging my fingers into his shoulders as I clung to him. "She was being tortured, but she _can't _be, because _she's already dead_," I wept, fearing for her non-existent life. It had been so long since I had seen her face. I thought I had forgotten it.

"Do you often have dreams like this?" He asked gently. I felt his warm breath against the top of my head, as if he whispered it into my hair. I shook my head, trying to calm my breathing.

I was stronger than this. I had accepted her death long ago. What had triggered this sudden, vivid reemergence of her into my subconscious?

My tears eventually slowed and I felt like the child Lor had once accused me of being. It was only a dream, but it had been so terrifyingly real. Besides, she _was_ my mother, so the conversation in the dream made no sense.

It was just a dream.

I extricated myself from his lap and disentangled my fingers from his hair, though I didn't even recall grabbing it in the first place. "Sorry," I mumbled, averting my eyes and wiping away the lingering tears. I ignored the strange expression on his face as we sat in silence for a few moments.

He made a move to get up, but I held him there.

"I know this is going to sound really childish," I began, fisting my hands into the blanket that was as frayed as my nerves. "And a bit awkward and strange and perhaps somewhat offensive, but I don't suppose you could stay for a few minutes? I'm a little freaked out right now and if you leave I know I'll just dwell on it."

And by dwell on it, I meant not sleep at all and work myself into an emotional mess.

Lor's expression was guarded but he nodded, motioning for me to get back under the blanket. A flickering candle just barely illuminated the tiny dark tent that I slept in, but I could see him just fine. As he pulled the sheet up over me I got a splendid view of that broad chest, and I was abruptly aware of the fact that he had no shirt on.

I allowed myself to stare, just for a moment. I had seen it that day so long ago in the forest, but I had been so panicked with the whole near-death thing that I hadn't really gotten a chance to fully appreciate it. _Glorious_ was the word that came to mind, though with all those scars I had a feeling most women would disagree. One scar stood out far more than the rest, the wound I couldn't entirely heal, the jagged white streak disappearing beneath his silky black sleeping pants. I automatically reached out, my hand brushing gently over smooth skin before touching the rough scar. I never knew I had a fetish for scars, but Lor somehow made them unbelievably sexy.

_Why do I have a sudden urge to follow that scar with my tongue?_

And when did I get this shallow?

"Miss Walker," his voice was stern and I gasped, tearing both my gaze and hand away. I looked down, horribly ashamed. I was never this forward with men.

"Sorry… Master," I whispered, mortified. It was so easy to forget—

He took my hand in his and brought it to his mouth, brushing his lips against my skin. His gesture was somewhat playful but his eyes held a hint of steel. "Wouldn't want you to accidently unleash the beast," he breathed against my hand, and I frowned in confusion at his words.

"What do you—," I began, but he cut me off with a gentle finger to my lips.

"Sleep," he told me, putting just enough pressure onto my shoulders that I fell fully onto the pillow, no longer propped up by my arms. "And if you tell anyone what I've done tonight," he told me with utter seriousness, "I will personally slit your throat."

I snorted at the absurdity of the whole thing and nodded, his voice light but definitely sincere. "Charming," I murmured, recalling his words to me when I had made a similar threat. He grinned and took me by surprise, coming under the blanket with me.

Did the temperature just rise ten degrees, or was it just my hormones?

I froze for a moment, my logic battling my heart as it beat frantically in my chest. Logic told me that I should fear this man and not be asking him to comfort me. I should not be trusting him to lay down next to me; for goodness sakes, I was his _slave_. But the only thing in the world I wanted to do in that moment was crawl into his arms.

So I did.

He tensed. I held my breath. Then he wrapped his arms around me with a soft sigh, and I was secretly thrilled. I cuddled my head into that warm, soft spot on his shoulder, my body plastered up against his in a way that was totally indecent but comfortable enough that I didn't care.

I felt safe for the first time in a month.

I had to wonder what he was thinking. Was that his face I felt rub into my hair, his lips brushing my forehead? Perhaps, but I was losing focus, my fatigue pulling me under. I had never been one to find sleep easily, but the stress of the past days had taken its toll.

In that moment I admitted to myself that I trusted him. To an extent. He was still a different species and my natural enemy—I had no illusions in that regard. I wasn't about to go blurting how I knew his language or that my father was a Druid of the Flame or anything; but I trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms.

And I did.

…

Daylight always has a way with shedding a new light on everything.

In fact, upon waking up, I had to wonder if the events of the previous night had all been one big dream. I knew the abduction was real, and the slave auction was real; but was the scandalous Lor moment real? It couldn't have been. To test my hypothesis I stuck my nose into the right half of the bed and inhaled.

_Forest._

Elune help me. Had I really snuggled up to my _Master_ like he was a big teddy bear and not a fel-tainted blood elf with the power to send me to my death with a flick of his hand?

I certainly had some woman-balls when I was tired.

"Lor'themar," I whispered the name, and it sounded a bit too reverent, even to my own ears.

And then it hit me— where I had heard that name before.

I sat up so fast that I saw stars.

_Lor'themar Theron_, I recalled from a history book I had read long ago. _The Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas._

Oh my.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello! So I'm going to start putting these out once a week on __**Wednesdays**__, because consistency makes life easier, and with classes I definitely need the full week. I barely finished this one xD And ohhhhhhh my! New lore for Lor! With patch 5.1, some stuff is going down with the blood elves, and I like to be consistent with what is actually happening in WoW, so I can't wait to find out what it is!...Anyone else as excited as I am? ;) Hopefully it won't conflict with my story somehow..._

**Chapter 4**

I didn't have more than a minute to ponder this little revelation before the flaps of the tent opened.

It was _him_, of course. He looked like some pale haired god with the sun filtering in around him. And I did what any sane, rational night elf would do.

I screeched and leapt backwards, tripping over the cot forcefully enough to tip it and myself over, knocking into the delicate tent's wall and sending the entire structure careening to the ground.

_Well that could have gone better._

I was in darkness for a few moments, so I was able to compose myself by the time the canvas and cot were lifted off of me.

Two green eyes met mine with thinly veiled amusement.

"Good morning," the—_oh Elune help me_—Regent Lord of— _how is this even remotely possible_—Quel'Thalas purred, offering me a hand.

The last thing I wanted to do right now was come into physical contact with him, but I took his hand anyways out of politeness. He pulled me up and I let go as quickly as possible, brushing myself off and adjusting my horrible dress. I was doing my best not to think, because if I started thinking I would remember that he was—

_Okay let's think of something else now._

I took in the scene quickly with a glance. Blood elves were everywhere, probably over a hundred of them, taking down tents and putting out fires, saddling their bird-things and preparing to leave. We were in a field with a few trees scattered throughout, everything still that sickly color of reddish brown. Definitely the Eastern Plaguelands.

"We aren't too far off from Thalassian Pass," the Regent—_you know what? Let's just call him Lor_—_ Lor_ said as he grabbed my wrist and began dragging me off towards the tree line. "We should be able to make it to Tranquillien by tonight."

Tranquillien sounded vaguely familiar, and if I had to venture a guess I would say it was a town in the Ghostlands, the area south of Eversong Woods but north of the Eastern Plaguelands. I stumbled after him, having some major troubles finding my words. How could I talk to Lor now, knowing who he was? The only benefit of my position was that I got a fine view of his posterior, clad in heavy red armor like the rest of him. Very different from the leather I had seen him in previously. In fact, it looked like he had entirely changed classes overnight. What was he anyways? A hunter? I eyed his giant sword warily. _That thing is probably as heavy as I am. _A paladin?

"Why don't you ask the Argent Dawn for assistance?" I croaked out, finally regaining use of my vocal chords. We passed through the trees and a lake came into view.

"I have no desire to see them sniffing around in blood elf affairs. We have a few things to discuss, Miss Walker."

Great, back to the _Miss Walker_ thing. Now that we were out of view of the other blood elves he released my wrist and turned to face me. He was standing too close. Like if I leaned forward, I would bump right into him.

"You're afraid of me now," he said quietly, eyes glinting dangerously.

_And you wonder why?_ "I'm not afraid of you," I objected, but it came out too fast and high pitched to be the least bit convincing. I stood up taller, trying to come across as slightly less pathetic. I was probably about as intimidating as any trembling, tiny night elf in a skimpy scrap of cloth could look to a six and a half foot tall well-muscled, well-armored blood elf with a full arsenal strapped to his body.

Ha.

I_ really_ wanted to take a step back, but that would contradict the whole not-being-afraid thing.

"You flew faster than a dragonhawk when you saw me. I see the fear in your eyes even now."

That was probably because he was the _Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas_ and therefore scared the mana out of me by default. "Perhaps I am just trying to lull you into a false sense of security."

He raised an elegant brow. "If that is the case, then telling me that would counteract your goal."

I frowned, tired of his mental games. "What do you want?"

"Master."

"Huh?"

"What do you want, _Master_."

"Nothing, thanks," I smiled faintly, purposefully misinterpreting his words. I clenched my hands so they would stop shaking. "Actually," I mused, poking his armor-clad chest, "a new journal and pen would be wonderful." I was already feeling the withdrawal of not writing everything down. Apparently I was as addicted to my journal writing as the blood elves were to their magic.

He sighed, one of his fingers twisting around a lock of my hair. I froze like a mage in Ice Block. I seriously needed to work on my social skills and _not _turn into a stone statue every time he touched me.

"Miss Walker, I believe we had a certain conversation yesterday."

"Oh yes," I laughed nervously, thanking Elune that words were still coming coherently out of my mouth. "Our long, intellectual, four sentence conversation while I was half unconscious."

His silence said, _your point?_ I knew I had no advantage to press in this situation, and I had to give in, at least a little. "And when anyone is watching, I'll be your perfect little slave, your Excellency," I conceded, the title at the end mildly sarcastic.

His eyes widened and I realized my mistake.

Now he knew that I knew that he was who he actually was. Why did I suddenly lose all intelligence whenever I was around him? It was like my ability to think was proportional to the distance between us. When he was near, it seemed like my words had a tendency to start flowing out of my mouth with no filter for stupidity. If I stood there staring for another five seconds, I would probably start blabbing about how I understood a large portion of Thalassian or something equally unwise.

His hand fell from my hair and he tilted his head thoughtfully. Thankfully he spoke before I could form any more words. "Ah yes, I was wondering when you would find out that little bit of information. It was refreshing having a sentient being regard me with something other than fear or lust for power and money, but all good things must come to a close." His expression was somber. "I suppose that explains your reaction to me this morning."

"I'm n-not afraid of you," I repeated with a stammer. Very convincing.

His eyes narrowed and perused my body from the tips of my toes all the way to my now violet-tinted cheeks. I felt it like a caress, and I wondered absently what he would do if I ran and hid behind the nearest tree.

"Pet, you're shaking."

Oh I was, wasn't I. _Body, you can totally stop that now. _"It's cold, I'm wearing almost nothing and I haven't eaten or bathed in two days. What do you expect?" My words came out harsher than intended, but darn it, I was overwhelmed!

"You can bathe in Blackwood Lake, it's much cleaner than anything we'll find in the Ghostlands." He gestured to the body of water beside us. "Just don't go too far in. There are some nasty elementals that like to eat little night elves for breakfast. A servant of mine is going to come over here to assist you in a few minutes. You'll like her."

"I have to _bathe_ in this thing?" I gasped, appalled, but thankful for the mental distraction. The lake itself didn't look so bad, but looks could be deceiving. The land around it was so wretched I couldn't imagine the lake itself being much different.

Finally given an excuse to back away from him, I walked the few feet to the waterline and dipped my toes in. "At least they're not melting off," I murmured as I wiggled them around in the clear, cool water.

"How much Thalassian do you know?" Lor questioned me, but I didn't turn around. I was busy peering into the water, trying to see if anything in there actually looked like it would want to eat me. His earlier words had been said a tad too seriously for my liking.

"Just the phrase I told you," I lied. I hoped he attributed the slight tremor in my voice to my fear of him and not my inability to lie convincingly. Understanding Thalassian without the blood elves knowing would be a huge tactical advantage for me.

He paused before continuing. "That night a month ago… it didn't happen. You will tell no one. Do you understand?"

Oh. It _would_ make him look bad, wouldn't it?

"Were your emotions faked, then? An act so I would help you?" I voiced the question that had been lingering in my mind, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible. I wanted to slap a hand over my mouth as soon as the words were out. I dared to look at him over my shoulder and found his face so close to mine that our breaths mingled. By Elune, he moved quickly and silently when he wanted to.

"Does it matter, pet?"

_Breathing is good, breathing is good_. I knew he was aware of his effect on me, and that darkly playful smirk on his handsome face wasn't helping.

_Get back in control, Chasidah._

"Of course not," I responded briskly, turning away and glaring pointedly out over the water. I was _so_ not looking that man in the eye right now, not if I wanted to keep some semblance of composure. "I assume last night did not happen either. Our relationship will be strictly platonic."

"Is that so?"

I narrowed my eyes at his tone, even though he couldn't see them. "You're the Regent Lord," I said, more to remind myself than anything. "You can't dally with lowly beings such as myself."

"Not publicly," he agreed, his hand brushing the collar that was still around my neck. He tugged on it and I was forced to lean back lightly against him. I tensed up tighter than a bowstring, but then forced my body to relax. Freaking out wouldn't help me here. My eyes widened when a thin blade came up in front of my face and angled down at my throat_. Just for the collar, calm down._

"I haven't had the pleasure of a woman's company since I became Regent Lord. Call me reckless, but I'm willing to try."

What was he implying?

His hand made a slicing motion and I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt the collar drop off of me and heard it hit the ground with a soft thud. His hand lingered at my throat, sliding along my necklace.

"But let me make something clear, pet. I don't take betrayal lightly. I've made the mistake of trusting people before, so I will tell you this: I do not trust you. I will not trust you. If I think you are using me for some nefarious plot, or plan on spreading word of our _arrangement_, I will not hesitate to kill you. Otherwise, I foresee a mutually beneficial relationship."

"There is no _arrangement_. I won't have sex with you," I said, sounding shamefully out of breath. One of his hands was trailing lightly down my side, and even with his heavy armor in between us I still felt too exposed in my outfit. In fact, I was fairly certain that having the entire Great Sea in between us right then still wouldn't have felt like quite enough space. Lor had sensuality like a nightsaber had fur, and that foresty scent of his was beginning to mess with my brain and lower whatever meager defenses I had against him.

"Is that a challenge?" I heard the smile in his voice. I still refused to look at him. "And who said anything about sex, pet?" The words were whispered in my ear and I shivered involuntarily.

"Why don't you find some willing blood elf?" I rasped, barely finding my voice.

I heard a rustling behind us. His hands left my body and I knew he had leapt back with that frightening speed of his. "Don't forget about that journal, Master," I called out, pretending like the weirdest interaction of my entire life hadn't just happened. I glanced at his retreating form over my shoulder.

Hot green eyes snapped back to look at me just before he went out of view. "I'll see what I can do."

I turned back in a daze, sitting down on the sandy dirt as I listened to two pairs of footsteps. His heavy ones retreating, another, lighter pair coming towards me. Had I just agreed to something? What on Azeroth just happened? Did he seriously just imply that he wanted to be intimate with me, or was I really just that bad at interpreting social situations? Why would he even be interested in the first place?

In the span of two days my life had gone from mind-numbingly boring to lethally interesting.

"My lady?"

The soft voice came from behind me.

I wasn't expecting what I saw. The blood elf woman was beautiful, with long golden hair and a heart shaped face. She looked delicate, and reminded me of a graceful but easily frightened deer. Yet marring her face was a long horizontal scar that crossed over both of her eyes like some sort of macabre mask. Was she blind?

It's always hard to tell exactly where an elf is looking, because of the glow. I knew she was gazing in my general direction, but I had a feeling she wasn't actually seeing me. "Hello," I called back, "you speak Common?"

She nodded, walking slowly towards me. "My name is Ronae," she smiled shyly, and I instantly liked her because she was the first blood elf I'd met that hadn't looked at me with contempt at first glance.

I wondered where she had learned Common. A prisoner of war, perhaps? Or once a slave like me, but to a cruel Alliance master that blinded her? I wasn't going to ask.

The only thing I knew for sure was that she was carrying a dress that wasn't the one I was wearing, soap and a loaf of bread, and those were three of the top four things I wanted in my life right now.

I'd work on getting some paper later.

…

I didn't see Lor for the rest of the day, and I talked with Ronae continuously over the entire journey. She was slowly coming out of her shell, and I felt comfortable around her. I didn't get the impression that she judged me for being a night elf. Ronae was someone I wouldn't mind being friends with, had we both been on the same side. She told me all about Eversong Woods, and some of the important blood elves it would do me well to know. The man in the blue mail armor I had mentally dubbed _general _was, in fact, the Ranger-General of Silvermoon. His name was Halduron, and I could tell by the dreamy look on Ro's face that she had some major feelings for him. The sadness there told me they were unrequited.

We indeed made it to Tranquillien before night fall. Not that one could really tell when night was falling in the Ghostlands, because it was in a state of perpetual dreary, plague-infested darkness. I'm happy I was towards the middle of the crowd so I didn't have to come into contact with any of the undead that would randomly attack us. All I got to hear were the screams.

I'd been able to get some bread and water down, but upon entering this place I almost wished I hadn't, because the atmosphere alone made me want to retch. Halduron took a large portion of the troops with him to continue onto Silvermoon, but Ronae and I stayed in Tranquillien with the injured and those who were just too tired.

My healing magic was practically begging to come out. I wanted to heal something, _anything_, but Ronae told me I wasn't allowed to assist the wounded soldiers. This land was too far gone for me to even bother trying. Everything was dead, undead or infected by the plague, and I wasn't too pleased to find out we would be making camp here. But I sucked it up, slunk into the tent Ronae pointed me to, and went to bed.

One of these nights I was going to get more than four hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Tonight was not that night.

Awareness came to me quickly. A body straddled my chest and a cool hand was placed firmly over my mouth. Most frightening of all was the blade that I felt poised against my throat, the cool metal gentle but threatening. A little more pressure and it could go from painless to lethal.

But even with all this, the part of me that wasn't scared for my life was thrilled; because when my eyes snapped open I met the steady, narrowed gaze of a night elf.

"Hey," the rogue whispered harshly, her eyes glowing that beautiful white my species is so well known for. "Why are you with these gross blood elves?"

"Slave," I exhaled when she removed her hand. Why on Azeroth there was a night elf here in horde territory? Nonetheless I was unbelievably happy to see her scowling purple face.

She eased the blade off my throat and sheathed it. I smiled faintly but didn't dare to make any sudden moves. "Elune be praised, I cannot tell you how good it is to see a member of the Alliance," I whispered, feeling a great desire to leap into her arms and beg her to take me away from here.

"Yeah," she said as she hopped off of me and crouched down. "This could be useful, actually."

I became instantly nervous. "What could be useful to whom?"

"There are night elves here in these parts." Her eyes watched me speculatively. "As a slave, I bet you could get us information."

Nope. Didn't want to do it. I liked my head where it was. Though the night elf presence here was very interesting—there must've been some sort of secret operation going on.

"I'm not going to be able to get myself to the Ghostlands, you realize?" I responded, thinking that was probably a reasonable excuse. "I doubt they will even let me out of Silvermoon."

"You should be able to get out. You're a priest, tell them you need to gather herbs or something priestly like that. We have a scout at West Sanctum."

She looked young, now that I thought about it. Her voice sounded like it was in that awkward transition between child and teenager. "Where is that?" I asked. I had no idea what the layout of Eversong Woods looked like.

"West."

"That's not helpful."

"You'll find it, it's not far from the city. Get to the scout when you can. I'll tell him to watch for you. You're the only night elf slave I know of, so it shouldn't be too confusing."

"I don't think this is a good idea," I told her, sitting up. In fact, it was a very, very bad idea. "I'm not really spy material. I'll inevitably give myself away."

"Don't you love your people?"

I frowned, frustrated. "Of course I love my people."

"Then do it. Otherwise we won't be able to free you."

"Maybe I can free myself," I mumbled, knowing how unlikely that was. The promise of freedom was tantalizing, and she knew it.

"Good luck with that," she sneered. A pleasant girl, this one. "Meet him at West Sanctum when you can get away. He'll give you instructions. If you find out something important, tell him."

"You realize they all speak Thalassian?" I asked, acting as if I wouldn't understand it. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure you'll figure out something. I need to go."

She was gone in the blink of an eye, no evidence that she had even been here in the first place.

I curled up in a ball, pulling the blanket up to my chin. Lor would kill me if he found out I was spying. He had told me how he felt about betrayal quite clearly earlier today. I would die.

I even felt _guilty_ about it for some unknown reason.

But these were things I would worry about tomorrow.

_"Help me! Somebody help me!"_ The cries came from outside, and I realized that the fates were not looking kindly on me tonight. There would be no sleeping. I pulled my covers up over my face, hoping the noise would just go away. One of the blood elves would take care of it.

_ "My lord, my lord, _please _help me!"_

I frowned. The only one I'd heard people call "my lord" here was Lor. The woman sounded traumatized, and I felt obligated to see what was actually happening.

I slid out of bed, my bare feet touching the cool dirt. I crept to the front of the tent and slid the flaps just barely apart so I could peek outside.

People were getting up, many stumbling out of their tents to see the commotion, some pulling on clothing as they went. A woman was on her knees in the center of town, a squrirming boy in her arms. He couldn't have been older than five or six, but something was clearly wrong with him. He looked like he was clawing at his mother, his mouth open in a silent scream, his green eyes wide and glowing oddly bright.

Then Lor was there, not wearing nearly enough clothing, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. His hair was a mess and he only wore a pair of black silk pants, like the ones I had seen him in the previous night. "_What's wrong?"_ he asked her in Thalassian, but the look in his eyes told me he already knew. What was going on here?

Then a blood elf got right in my line of view, of course. Which meant I had to leave the tent.

I crept out, relieved when no guards leapt on top of me. Everyone was too distracted.

"_I need all healers,"_ I heard Lor's voice call out over the crowd. There weren't many left in our group; most, if not all of the healers had gone ahead with Halduron. No one expected trouble here.

I pushed forward, dodging my way through the ten or so people in my way. They glared at me and gave me dirty looks, but no one was trying to kill me. Small blessings.

"Oh, Elune," the breath hissed out of me when I saw the boy up close.

He was sweating, his skin dirty and his short red hair matted to his head. Chunks of hair were falling out, and his face was contorted in a look of twisted rage that seemed unnatural on a child so young. He was trying to claw at his mother's face, and I saw from the blood underneath his small fingernails and the claw marks that marred the woman's cheek that he had landed a swipe. He was drooling, practically foaming at the mouth, and blood stained tears were streaming down his small, chubby cheeks.

My first instinct was to run over and try to help him, but I was impeded almost immediately by one of Lor's guards. "Let me go!" I struggled, furious. I couldn't even see the guy through his helm, and the big brute had a painful grip on my arms.

_ "Let her go." _

Lor's command was sharp and the man let go instantly. I stormed past him, pausing next to Lor. The mother looked like she would kill me herself if I got too close to her child. "Is Ronae the only other healer left?" I asked, looking up at him. On the way to Tranquillien I had discovered Ronae was a priest as well— but of the shadow variety. He nodded gravely, crouching in front of the boy.

"You," he pointed to one of the Tranquillien guards, "hold the boy down before he hurts his mother. Be gentle."

She relinquished control of her son as the guard tried to pin the boy down without injuring him. Now he was starting to kick, his whole body convulsing. I nearly cried out myself with the look of agony on the child's face. Lor helped the boy's mother off the ground. "_When did it start?"_

"_This morning,"_ she sobbed, the pain clear in her voice. I closed my eyes to focus on the translation. "_My lord, I've taken him… healer, nothing...helped."_

I crouched down in front of the boy, waiting for permission. My hands itched with the need to touch him to find out what ailed the poor child. I looked up at Lor, impatient. The boy was suffering.

He exchanged more words with the mother, who was clearly upset by my presence. The town had made a circle around the bunch of us, and I noticed Ro shuffle in quietly to my right.

Finally, he turned to me and nodded.

I placed my palm against the boy's sweating forehead and concentrated.

"_Oh_," I inhaled sharply, abruptly pulling away. _What _was _that?_ It was so repulsive I felt nauseous. If my magic was like clear water, this was more like thick, oily mud. It was dark and heavy and just feeling it had made me woozy.

"How does this even happen?" I gasped, the grief plain in my voice. This poor boy had that disgusting magic _inside_ of him. No child deserved that, Horde or Alliance. How could I help him?

I heard Lor sigh with frustration beside me, but I couldn't take my eyes off the boy's face. He looked like he was in so much pain. "We have no idea. This is the third case this week. It's only been seriously affecting the very young and the very old, but all of us can feel it."

"What happened in the other two cases?"

"They became Wretched. We had to kill them." His voice was quiet, and I barely heard him over the wailing of the mother.

I shuddered at the thought. I knew what the Wretched were. I recalled learning about them in my youth—a clear warning to us about the dangers of magic. A blood elf that consumed too much tainted magic and fed their addiction to the point of madness became Wretched. They lost their sense of self, their lives revolving solely around getting their next fix. I'd never seen one, but I'd read that their appearance became equally frightening with bulging green eyes, hunched bodies and sunken faces. And this poor, writhing boy in front of me was about to become one.

Not today.

Time to focus. I went over a list of healing spells in my mind. "Has a paladin tried Cleansing him?" I asked the mother in Darnassian, knowing I couldn't just start speaking Thalassian; though that would certainly make this easier.

Lor translated and the mother nodded, stifling her sobs. She was still giving me chilling looks whenever she thought Lor wasn't watching.

"Has a priest looked at him as well? A druid? A shaman?"

She nodded again.

Okay then, that ruled out all normal, reasonable things to do. I brought my hand back over to the child's head and forced myself to touch him again.

_Elune give me strength_, I was going to gag. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to feel the nature of this foul magic. Every living creature has magic in them, even ones that don't use it. The best term I could use to describe it is _life force_, and normally it goes relatively untouched. Typically, when I use my Cure Disease, Dispel Magic and Purify spells, these only cure very superficial things, like a disease of the flesh or a simple magical curse. This was entirely different because it was_ part_ of him, intertwined with his life force so intricately that I couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. The tainted magic had become as much a part of him as an arm or a leg.

I withdrew my hand, the world spinning briefly. I took deep breaths, and my stomach settled. I only had one idea, and I knew the mother would never agree to it.

"I only have one idea, and there is a massive chance of failure," I said, looking at Lor. He watched me intently, and even through his stoic mask I could see how stressed he was.

"What is it?" He pressed his lips into a thin line.

"We need a trustworthy warlock with Soulstone abilities. Technically, this is something I can Purify, but I've never had to use it on magic that was so deeply imbedded inside someone. If I just try it now, I'm going to end up destroying both the bad _and_ the good magic, and he will die in the process. But if we have his soul stored, after I use my Purify spell the warlock should be able to resurrect him, fel-free. Normally this wouldn't even be possible for me to do in this situation, but the boy is so young that his body doesn't have the defenses built up to guard against that sort of magical intrusion."

I had no experience with this. In Darnassus they never let me heal anything difficult because they never trusted me after my father's decisions. I used to practice on injured animals on my own, and the worst wounds I'd ever healed on a person were Lor's.

"So you're saying you have to kill him to save him?" I could tell he was as mortified as I was by the prospect.

"It's the only thing I can think of," I nodded. "The thing is, bodies aren't made to die and come back. Since he is so young, I feel like there is a chance he might be able to make it through the transition."

He turned to the mother, who was watching us with wide eyes. He told her my plan, and she instantly freaked out, just like I knew she would.

_"I'm not letting that…_lots of bad sounding words here_…night elf…my child!"_ she screeched, pointing at me and giving me a potent glare. I bit my tongue, not allowing myself to respond because I wasn't supposed to understand any of it.

"_What else can we do?_" he replied to her. She shook her head and her face fell into her hands.

"_Do it, just do it_," I heard her sob desperately through her fingers. Her voice was resigned; she knew she had no other choices. The kid certainly didn't have more than an hour left.

A small commotion followed after this. Lor said "Get Summoner Fanorad," and the populus scrambled to do his bidding, nearly tripping over each other in the process. We were a show now, and I was partially aware of everyone in Tranquillien watching us.

But I couldn't take my eyes from the boy. The guard that held him down was starting to look tired. The boy hadn't stopped growling and drooling and fighting since he got here, and I couldn't imagine the stress his tiny body was under. What would I do if he didn't wake up? I'd cast a Renew spell immediately after the warlock's Soulstone took effect, but would that be enough?

And if I failed, what would become of me?

There was no time to worry about my own wellbeing now. A male blood elf I assume was Fanorad kneeled beside me, his green eyes narrowed in suspicion. He wore the typical blood red robes of a warlock, and had that demonic air about him that all warlocks seem to have. Warlocks make me nervous.

Lor spoke to him, explaining what had to be done.

"_Impossible_," Fanorad bit back, his eyes flashing towards me like I had lost my mind. _"Forgive me my Lord, but_—,"

"What's the boy's name?" I asked suddenly, interrupting the warlock before he continued his denial.

Lor asked the mother. "_Anar'bel_," she wept softly.

I nodded thoughtfully._ Anar_ was typically used to mean _by the_, and_ bel_ was likely short for sun, _belore_.

_By the Sun, I will try to save you, child._

"Tell me when you have his soul stored." I didn't spare the warlock a glance. I tried to avoid working with warlocks whenever possible, and I knew he would hate me by default no matter what I said or did.

I clenched my hands as I waited. I no longer registered anything going on beyond a five step radius of myself. I needed absolute concentration for this. Lor's solid presence beside me was both comforting and reassuring, and had we not been in public I would've reached over and taken his hand. I needed his strength, because I didn't feel very strong myself. I couldn't have stood up at that point even if I had wanted to.

"Don't let him die."

I met Lor's eyes briefly before fixating back on Anar'bel. His words had been soft, but heavy with meaning. He was trusting me right now, and if I failed to save this boy then he failed by association. It was even worse because I was a night elf, and the only reason I was being allowed near the boy in the first place was because of Lor. I not only had Anar'bel's life riding on this—I had Lor's reputation.

"_It's ready," _Fanorad hissed. He looked exhausted. I almost responded, but caught myself just in time.

"He's ready," Lor reiterated what I already knew. I wished _I_ was ready.

I shifted forward and placed my shaking hands on the boy's chest. It was similar to my position on Lor that night when I had healed his chest wound, except this boy was far smaller than me and putting up a big fight. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

There it was. That mud that had soaked up all the water of his life force and turned it into a malignant, terrifying mass. I whispered the incantation for my Purify spell, a tear rolling down my cheek. I was killing him, and it made me physically ill to think about that fact. So I didn't.

_Go away, mud. You don't belong here_. I forced my mana out of me and my spell hit the foul magic. My spell swirled around it, encasing the mud, trying to disperse it and force it out.

_Elune help me, Elune please!_ I begged. It wasn't working. There was too much of it. I sent another blast through, and this time the mud moved. It even screamed, if you'd believe it—though no one heard it but me. I resisted the urge to block my ears as this otherworldly magic screeched like a dying banshee before discharging like an explosive, blasting anyone within two meters of the boy backwards.

I fell flat on my back, landing painfully on top of some unfortunate blood elf. I leapt off of him, pushing through the sudden chaos to fall down beside the boy again, Fanorad joining me within moments. "Do it now!" I hissed at him in Darnassian, and he got the point. If he hadn't I would've blown my cover right then and there.

I placed my hands on the boy again, feeling for any remnants of the fel energy. I felt none. I also didn't feel his life force, which is what I knew would happen. Seconds were precious. His body wouldn't last very long without a life force inside it.

And then it was there again— _Thank you oh great warlock you are fantastic._

But the battle wasn't over yet. I cast my Renew spell as fast as I could, seriously running low on mana. I was in trouble. "Ronae!" I yelled, and she was by my side in a matter of seconds. "Cast every healing spell you know," I told her desperately, trying to take stock of the boy's conditions.

"_Damn it_ Anar'bel, don't you _dare _die on me!" I yelled, realizing his heart wasn't beating nearly as strongly as it should have been. Body parts were failing. He wasn't going to make it like this.

I don't know what came over me in that moment. Maybe it's because every time I see someone on the brink of death, I'm reminded of that moment I leaned over my mother, unable to help her. And now I couldn't watch this little boy die, because it would be like watching my mother die all over again.

There was one more spell I knew, and I had just enough mana for it.

It was called Void Shift. I'd never used it before, because it was extremely dangerous. Essentially, it meant we were swapping our… _general wellbeing_, I suppose. It wouldn't switch souls or magic or anything like that, but rather healthiness in a more basic sense of the word. It was highly unpredictable, but I had no time to worry about variables right now.

There was just me and the boy. No one else around us. I didn't hear them, I didn't see them. The world had narrowed down to him and I. Anar'bel wasn't going to die today, because I wasn't going to allow that to happen. He had too much of his life ahead of him.

I cast the spell.

The last thing I recall is watching the boy's eyes open. They had been open before, but now they were_ really_ open. I saw that spark of sentience and life. It had worked.

I might have smiled, I'm not sure. I couldn't really feel my body anymore.

_"Chasidah!"_ A male voice bellowed. _Lor?_

The blackness swallowed me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I was on cold stone, sprawled out on my back like a sacrifice.

_Where am I?_ I tried to recall my last memory. I had been in the Ghostlands, dying.

Was I dead?

I opened my eyes. Moonlight filtered in through the branches above me, casting the nature around me in an ethereal glow. I was on a stone altar, the rock cracked and interwoven with vines and small plants. Trees surrounded me as far as my eyes could see, the leaves the most brilliant shades of red and orange and yellow. They reminded me of the trees in the Ghostlands, but beautiful and healthy.

I sat up slowly, noting that my body felt fine. This was odd, considering I had been expecting to wake up in excruciating pain if I even woke up at all.

I reached for my magic, but found nothing. I felt a bolt of fear, but pushed down my panic. There had to be some logical explanation for this; I just had to think of it. I sat up and glanced down at myself. I looked normal, but I was wearing a thin white dress I had never seen before. I slid off the altar, my feet landing in the cool dirt.

_I'm in a forest, but where is everyone?_

I was alone. I spun in a circle, my eyes searching for signs of someone other than myself, but I only saw more trees. I stepped forward carefully, my long ears perked for any noise. I heard the sounds of nature: the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, the quiet hum of a stream somewhere nearby, the nightly symphony of the forest insects.

And the sound of footsteps behind me.

I twisted around with a gasp, stumbling backwards until I felt the safety of a tree against my back. "Who's there?" I called out, my eyes frantically searching for whoever had made the sound.

"Do you not know the footsteps of your own father, child?"

_This isn't possible._ How had he found me on Horde lands? How—

_ You're dreaming._

By Elune, what was with these realistic dreams? I was beginning to detest my unconscious mind. Soon I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between dream and reality, and that notion seriously concerned me. "This isn't real," I whispered as he stepped out from the shadows nearby, a man who had haunted my nightmares for many years. My father.

"Of course it's real," he chided. I felt compelled to believe him, because he was always right about everything. It even _felt _like I was awake. I hadn't seen him in years, but he looked very much the same as he had in my youth, before he changed. His skin was the same blue as mine, but several shades darker. Even our hair was identical, long and white. Unfortunately I got almost all of my physical traits from my father, so I needed only to look in a mirror to think of him or recall his face. I avoided mirrors.

"Though then again, that would depend on your definition of _real,_ daughter." His smile was cold, and it chilled me to the very depths of my soul.

"You looked a lot more…_fiery_, last time we met," I commented, wondering why he looked like a normal druid now. No blackened skin, no glowing red eyes. I felt a pang of homesickness in my heart, a childhood wish for things to go back to the way they were. But that was foolishness.

He tilted his head, his penetrating stare sharper than a harpy's talons. "This place does not permit the unnatural. Most of the time, at least."

"Where are we?" I experimented, seeing if this cruel figment of my imagination could tell me something useful. _Please don't be real._

"I would indeed like to know," he frowned, glowing white eyes narrowed. "I've been searching for you for over a month."

My eyes widened. "Why have you been looking for me? And how have you found me if you don't know where I am?"

He laughed, and it sent chills down my spine. "This is your dream, child. Not mine."

"So I _am _dreaming then," I said, but it didn't comfort me.

"I did not raise a fool. You tell me."

His words stung. I would always be a fool to him, always a disappointment. My father had been the one to first introduce me to books. He had triggered my love of reading, but for him it had been all about having an advantage. _Information is true power_, he used to tell me. He was determined to have an intelligent daughter, but I had never felt good enough. His expectations were too high, so I always fell short.

Now I considered what I knew about my situation. My mind filtered through everything I had read about dreams, and only one thing came to mind. But it was impossible. "I can't be in the Emerald Dream. I'm a priestess."

"Yes, but your father is a powerful druid, and your mother could connect to the Dream even in her waking hours."

What was he talking about? My mother was priestess too.

I frowned, but changed the topic to something of more immediate importance. "Why are you here?"

"For you," he smiled icily. "But the moment I turn my back, you go and disappear. Pray tell, child—what forest is this?"

The Emerald Dream. I was really in the Emerald Dream. This was absurd. How could I wake up? I needed to wake up, now. I needed to get away from him before he figured out where I was. No good could come of him knowing my location.

He walked over to one of the trees and picked off a leaf from a low hanging branch. The man was practically a walking encyclopedia of knowledge when he wanted to be. He'd be able to deduce my location in a few minutes, at most.

He twisted the leaf in his fingers. "Eastern Kingdoms, I am certain. These trees are only found in the north, but Quel'Thalas is Horde territory."

Or maybe a few seconds.

I needed to wake up, I needed to wake up!

I turned and ran.

His laughter followed me. "You think you can run, daughter? You've been running from yourself all your life, but you can't run from me."

I rubbed my eyes, but nothing happened. I kept running, stumbling through the dense vegetation, and I heard him following me. The change in the sound of his footsteps told me he had shifted to cat form, and I had mere moments before he caught up to me.

How had I woken up from my last realistic dream? I had grounded myself with—

The world flickered, and I was in a bed.

The world flickered, and I was in a forest.

The world flickered, and I was in a bed.

The world flickered, and I was in a forest, my father standing in front of me with a frightening grin.

"Dizzying, isn't it?" he smirked, clearly knowing more about my condition than I did.

I gripped my head, nauseous. The world flickered, and I was in a bed, but not really. It was like I was looking at myself being in bed. _Damn it!_

The next instant, I was on the ground in a forest._ "What's happening to me?" _I gasped, shuddering. I felt like I was getting torn in half with each transition.

_Think, Chasidah._ Maybe I had one foot in the Dream, one foot in reality, or something crazy like that. I had to ground myself in reality. _Now._

I thought of Lor. I thought of that little boy, and wondered if I'd actually saved him. I recalled Lor's voice, right before I had passed out. He had said my name. He had called me _Chasidah_.

I snapped awake for real this time and shot out of bed with a scream. My throat felt raw, as if I had been doing a lot of that. With wide eyes, I quickly took in my surroundings. Small, dimly lit room with a bed. Ronae looking terrified, standing up and pressed against the wall like I was going to leap over there and kill her. The ache in my head dissipated.

I sat back down on the edge of the bed, completely out of breath. "Oh Elune, Ro I'm so sorry," I whispered, trying to get ahold of myself. I needed to relieve my frustration, but had no outlet. No journal to write in. No injured animal to heal.

That was when I noticed the room had a window. I flung myself at it, nearly falling on my face when my body protested. _And here are all the aches and pains_, I cringed. Then I pressed my face to the glass, praying I wouldn't see what I thought I would.

Oh no, no, _no!_

Even though I knew Eversong Woods was supposedly in a perpetual spring, it looked as if the land was in my favorite part of autumn, the leaves of the trees vibrant yellows and oranges and reds. The grass was a healthy green and the sky was a clear blue; the colors were all breathtakingly lovely, yet I wanted to gag.

It was just like my dream. I felt the blood drain from my face, and I clutched my hands to my chest. It had been real. I had really been in the Emerald Dream, the construction map of Azeroth, the world like it would have been without intelligent life. I would bet this all had been a forest, once. I would bet that because I had _been _there. Oh, Elune.

I swallowed painfully, continuing with my observations. I tried to look at it from a less biased standpoint, and thought back to a tiny article on Eversong Woods I had read once.

It was just as described, the beauty and the darkness. The Dead Scar was clearly visible from my position. The name fit it perfectly. A scar juxtaposing the beautiful land surrounding it, as if a raging fire had burnt a path straight through the Ghostlands and Eversong, all the way up through the ruins of old Silvermoon. I knew it continued even through Quel'Danas, not stopping until it reached the Sunwell.

"Is it possible for anything to grow there?" I asked, barely recognizing my voice. I needed a drink of water.

"No. The dirt is too tainted."

I nodded, pushing myself away from the window. My body felt on the verge of collapse again, and I fell into the bed without a shred of grace. I summoned my healing magic, immensely relieved to feel its familiar presence. I pressed my hands to my throat, my chest, all the places that hurt the most. I was still weakened so I couldn't do too much, but it dulled the pain.

"We're in Silvermoon," I stated when I could finally sit up straight without being in agony.

Ronae had sat back down, her eyes watching me with curiosity. She nodded. "Your dreams, were they natural? I couldn't wake you."

I shook my head. "I don't know. I'm just happy to be awake. How am I alive?"

Pain flashed over her features before she continued. "The boy was fine after you cast Void Shift, but I thought you were going to die. Healing is not my strength, and my Renew spell kept you alive just long enough for the Regent to get you to the healers here in Silvermoon." She tilted her head at me, pretty golden hair falling to the side. "I haven't seen him so upset in a long time. He tried to hide it, but I can always see."

Lor was upset at the thought of my death? Interesting. I would think about that later. I was also relieved to hear the boy was well, but I knew he would be. I had seen it in his eyes before I lost consciousness.

I stretched up my arms, forcing my stiff muscles to move. I was about to ask if there was any water when I noticed the flower sitting on the bedside table. It was beautiful, but in a dark, malevolent sort of way. It looked like it was made from metal, a black rose with long, sharp thorns. I reached over—

"Don't touch that, please."

Her voice was strangled, pained in a way I can't begin to describe. When I looked up I saw endless secrets hiding behind those haunted, sightless eyes. I withdrew my hand slowly.

Her expression reminded me of my mother's expression after my father had changed. Hopelessness and heartbreak, coupled with horrors that could never be unseen. Things I couldn't imagine. She was never the same.

"Thank you," Ronae whispered, her head down. She averted her gaze, her mind now somewhere far, far away. I wanted to know where it was, or rather _who_ it was with. Who had scarred her deeper than the wound that took her sight?

What sort of man gives his woman a twisted, black metal rose?

I had more questions to add to my never ending list of questions. I had a feeling that bluntly asking her would get me nowhere. The only thing I knew was that this room had to be her chamber. It was tiny, just big enough to fit a small bed, bedside table, chair and bookcase without any books. Considering Ronae was blind, this didn't surprise me. The bookcase was overflowing with flowers, and I made a mental note of her flower obsession.

"I'll get you something to drink," she murmured, as if in a trance. Then she practically ran out the door, and I had to wonder if she was about to go burst into tears. I was compelled to follow, but I didn't know her well enough. Sometimes people just needed to be alone.

Had I upset her somehow? I glanced back at the rose, and I wondered again what it would feel like to touch. It looked cold and menacing.

"Here you go."

I nearly leapt out of my skin when Ro popped up again beside me, glass of water in hand. I smiled and thanked her, and the water was gone in a matter of seconds. She looked better than she had only a minute before, but I suspected it was an act for my benefit.

"I'll give you a tour."

Ro talked quietly as we walked, and I was beginning to get used to the faint, inflectionless manner in which she always spoke. It was like she was here, but not _really_ here. I discovered after several minutes that Silvermoon was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

I needed a journal so I could draw it. The city was gorgeous with its pale stone, ornamented with gold plating and red paint. The architecture was completely different from what I was used to; this was far more extravagant and sophisticated than anything I had seen with the Alliance, much like the blood elves themselves.

Her room had been in a small alcove off of the Bazaar. After walking down the staircase from Farstriders' Square we entered the grandiose Court of the Sun, complete with a marble fountain and spiraling towers, all topped in gold, of course. Even the trees were golden, growing up through the stone flooring, their roots twisting between the cracks. The windows were all red stained glass, many of them more than twice my height. The whole city was bright and rich and so unlike my own culture, I could hardly believe that we had started out as the same species.

"Stay away from Murder Row," she said, pointing to the only darkened area I had seen thus far. It looked suspicious, and I nodded. I would keep my exploring to a minimum for now. This walk had shown me just how much I wasn't liked here. There hadn't been a single creature to look at me with anything less than disgust. Without the Regent's favor, I had no doubt that I'd no longer be breathing.

"This way is Sunfury Spire. The Regent wanted me to take you to him when you awakened."

I gulped, all my calm vanishing in an instant. The red carpeted bridge was lined with Silvermoon guards with their big shields and swords, and I didn't miss the way their eyes kept darting over to me.

"We have to go through them?" I leaned down, whispering in her ear. Just like in Stormwind, I felt strangely tall here. I had grown up my whole life needing to crane my neck up to see everyone else. Then again, whenever I was around Lor I felt about as intimidating as a rabbit.

She gave me a reassuring smile and took my hand, and I followed behind her like a child being dragged along by her mother. I was even tempted to stomp my foot and whine, _do we have to?_ but my pride didn't allow it.

We made it over the bridge alive, but that didn't sooth me. Not when the real threat was right in front of us.

Sunfury Spire was just as extravagant as everything else. Thick, red velvet was draped decoratively above us on the ceiling. Sheer blue curtains hung down, the color a stark contrast to the reds and golds that seemed ubiquitous in this city. Attempting to look everywhere but at _him_, I noticed the rooms on either side of us had books, and my fingers itched to grab them.

"Ronae," Lor greeted us. "Miss Walker."

That voice sent my heart thundering away like a paladin's galloping warhorse. _Nope, not looking yet._ I gave myself a few more brief moments of peace, admiring the artistic mosaic of a red and gold sun that took up the majority of the floor. It was a masterpiece, and when Ronae kneeled in front of Lor, I was given an excuse to go down and touch it.

"You may stand, Ronae. Miss Walker, whenever you are done examining the floor."

Oh, awkward. I stood up quickly, remembering just in time that I wasn't supposed to make eye contact. Instead I got a view of that heavy red, ebony and gold armor, and the bodies of two men standing on either side of him.

The one in the blue was definitely Halduron, the Ranger-General. The one to his left was a mage that gave me creepy vibes, but I couldn't recall his name.

"What do you think of Silvermoon?" Lor asked, and I did my best not to freak out.

"It's brilliant," I replied honestly, watching my feet. "And uh, some paper would be splendid because then I would be able to—,"

_Thunk._

No. Way.

_"Thank you!"_ I squealed, practically falling onto the book he had thrown at my feet. A pen clattered down beside it.

The journal was even more beautiful than the city. It was dark leather, adorned with intricate Sin'dorei designs, and the paper was heavy and strong. I would've flipped through the blank pages all day if I hadn't felt Ro tugging at my shoulders. "Get up," she told me softly, and I obeyed automatically, my eyes still riveted to my new book.

_He knows the way to my heart_, I mused internally, bringing the journal to my nose to smell the fresh paper and the sharp tang of new leather.

Of course, that same man had to go and ruin the moment for me. He sounded thoughtfully amused as he spoke. "By the Eternal Sun, woman. I'd think you were about to climax with that look of ecstasy on your face."

My face heated, and I briefly forgot that it wasn't wise to insult your superiors. "_Tact,_ Master. Have you ever heard of it?"

No one else reacted to either of our comments, so apparently he and I were the only Darnassian speakers here. Thank Elune.

He gave me that cocky half grin. I was so tempted to move my eyes up the slightest bit to make eye contact, but that probably wasn't a good idea when there were such high ranking officials with him. "Tact isn't needed between a Regent Lord and his slave. Go on now, follow Ronae and behave like a good little night elf."

Oh, he was _so_ going to get it later.

"This way," Ronae beckoned me, and I skittered away like a worg with its tail tucked beneath its legs. I heaved a great sigh of relief when we were out of sight, and I clutched my new journal to my chest like my life depended on it fusing with my body. I couldn't find the energy to feel appalled or angry when I held such a splendid gift in my hands.

We went through a small door and up a spiraling stone stairway. "The Regent told me you may spend the day here, if you like. Tomorrow I can introduce you to the other servants and help you with whatever chore you are assigned. Most of them sleep in the communal sleeping quarters found off of Farstriders' Square. I can show you later."

When we reached the top I almost fainted.

It was the biggest library I had ever seen. After my limbs unfroze I ran inside and spun in a small circle, my heart beating out of my chest with excitement. That's right. I was getting an adrenaline rush from standing in a library. How could I not be?

The bookcases were floor to ceiling, nearly twice as tall as me, and there were at least four floors. We were in some sort of tower, and if I looked up I could see all of the floors in rings above me. What languages would these books be in? What would they be about? There had to be _thousands_ of them in here! For a few moments I seriously considered completely abandoning all thoughts of escape if only I could spend the rest of my days in this very spot. It was glorious.

"Have fun," I heard her soft voice before she disappeared out the entrance. I really needed to teach that girl to speak up and smile more.

But for now, books!

Books, books, books, books!

I was tempted to do a little dance of joy, but I had too much to do. Way too much to do. I needed to start writing in my journal; I felt like I was missing something. Too many strange things had happened as of late for them all to be coincidences. But first I needed some maps, and more information on a certain blood elf.

…

"Of course," I muttered, glaring at the map in front of me as if doing so would cause some convenient seismic shift of all the land masses on Azeroth.

Eversong Woods really couldn't be in a more troublesome location. To the east was the Forbidding Sea, to the west was the Great Sea, and north was just more water and then the Isle of Quel'Danas, which I didn't want to go anywhere near.

If I headed south I would be forced to make it through the Ghostlands; in fact, I'd have to go back almost exactly the way we had come two days ago. Even with the night elf presence in the Ghostlands, there was a good chance I wouldn't run across them. It was a_ secret_ presence after all, so I couldn't expect help there. If I made it to the Eastern Plaguelands I could make a run for Light's Hope Chapel. This was an option, but I'd be surprised if I didn't get captured on the way.

I sighed, leaning back in the chair I had dubbed as mine. I skimmed my fingers over the soft material of the white dress I wore. Exactly the same one as in my dream, as well. As if I needed more proof that my dream had been real.

I was in a small sitting area that consisted of a rug, two chairs and a small table. Said table was now stacked with a few too many books, because I had gotten a bit overzealous in my book-searching excitement. The sun was already setting, and I had spent too much time ogling all the reading material. Most of the books here were in Thalassian, but there were also quite a few in Orcish and Common.

There were also hundreds of maps here, old and new, many of them outdated. Having found the relevant ones, I now knew my outlook was bleak. I brought my fingers to my temples, using my healing magic to relieve the beginnings of a headache.

_Can I go through horde mage portals?_ I wondered. If some mage decided to take a trip to Dalaran, I could try hurling myself at the portal. But what were the chances of that conveniently happening within jumping distance?

I sighed again and looked back down at the maps. Did I have any more options? Ah yes, there was also that teleportation device in Silvermoon that led to Undercity, but that was too close to Lor and about as suicidal as trying to swim my way from Lordaeron to Kalimdor.

"Already contriving a plot to escape, pet?"

"Eek!" I yelped, spinning around.

I felt like a kid who got caught Shadowmelding at the wrong place and time. I fortunately resisted my first instinct, which was to dive over everything on the table and hope it mystically vanished sometime between leaving the tabletop and hitting the floor. Instead I stood ramrod straight, though that was probably just as conspicuous. I really needed to work on the whole subtlety thing.

He was dressed more casually now, in that black leather as opposed to the extravagant red and gold heavy armor he was wearing earlier. He leaned against the door frame, glowing eyes watching me with an expression of both amusement and something eerily similar to hunger. I just wished I knew what I kind of hunger it was.

He had said _pet_, which meant he was in a good mood. I was starting to see the trend. _Miss Walker_ when he was trying to distance himself, _Chasidah_ when I was dying and _pet _when he was feeling somewhat playful or informal.

My eyes widened when I suddenly recalled the stack of books behind me, next to the maps. All of which were about him. He couldn't see those. I'd had enough embarrassment for one life time with this blood elf.

"Can I help you, Master?" I inquired softly, shifting so I stood between him and the books I didn't want him to see. This backfired, because his eyes narrowed at my movement. Did I mention that I really needed to work on the whole subtlety thing?

"And what sort of reading material do you have here, hmm?" He smirked a knowing smile, sauntering over and placing one hand on the table beside me, partially caging me in. Uh oh.

"Nothing of interest," I breathed in a rush, twisting and grabbing the books just as his other hand came around to do the same thing. Guess who won that game of tug?

"_Lor'themar Theron: The Man Behind the Title_," he read the first title out loud, taking a step back as I tried to snatch it out of his hand. He glanced at the cover of the next one. _"The History of Lor'themar Theron." _My fingers brushed the last book, but he spun out of my reach, grinning widely. _"Great speeches of Lor'themar Theron; _pet, I think I'm starting to see a trend here."

Elune, give me strength.

"Uhmm—," I began, but didn't get very far because suddenly his body was pressed fully against mine, his arms wrapped around me, his face buried in my neck.

"You know it's sort of sexy when you obsess about me, but you could just _ask_ me if you have any questions," he laughed softly, his breath hot in my ear.

_ Push him away, Chasidah! Push him away!_

I sighed and finally gave into the urge to thread my fingers into his silky white hair. _In a few minutes_, I told my reasonable self.

"I'm not obsessed," I retorted a bit too quickly. At least I wasn't freezing up this time. A great improvement, if you ask me.

His lips brushed my skin and I felt my knees go weak. Okay, maybe I hadn't improved.

"I see the way you blush whenever I look at you, I feel your pulse spike when I touch you and see the heat in your eyes whenever I'm near. Your eyes glow brighter, your breath shortens. I vividly recall a fiery kiss, and a necklace that happens to be an exact replica of the one you wear around your neck. And now I present to you a giant library with all the books you could ever dream of, and yet the first three you choose have to do with me. And one of them is in Thalassian, which makes me wonder how much of it you truly know. I wouldn't put it past you to go and learn an entire language in a month. You're obsessed."

Please, be a little more specific.

"And here I thought I was being sneaky," I muttered, lips curling into a self-deprecating half smile. I fought for a breath as his tongue flicked out and his lips trailed along my jaw. This was so inappropriate I didn't even know how to react. Yes, I was obsessed. But no way was I admitting it. "It's only logical that I should take interest in my captor. I need whatever advantage I can get."

_Push him away, Chasidah! Push him away!_

I felt his soft chuckle. "Pet, you amuse me. All the books in the world won't give you an advantage. No one knows who I am, no matter how these books speculate." His mouth was still at my neck, his tongue doing funny things and _oh my_, I no longer knew whether I wanted to push him away or drag him closer.

"I'll be sure to go directly to you for future inquiries." _Not happening._ "But aren't you busy doing Regent business all day?" My voice wasn't even remotely steady.

"Yes. But we have all night."

I tensed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean there is going to be a convenient five minute time slot each night when no guards will be stationed outside of my room, and if you happen to slip in unnoticed, I most certainly won't complain." His fingers trailed suggestively down my back. I shivered.

Oh my.

"I'm not having sex with you," I reiterated my earlier stance, still not sounding as vehement as I would've liked. It was hard to with his hard body pressed against mine like this.

His small nip at my earlobe made me gasp. "Who said anything about sex, pet?" His reply was the same, but it felt a lot more serious this time. "I promise I won't take you without your explicit permission. Be there in fifteen minutes."

He brought his head up and held my gaze, just a few inches from my own. I don't know if I looked shocked or mortified, but whatever it was he found it amusing. His mouth quirked up, and when he saw my eyes follow the movement he swiped his tongue along his lower lip just to make me squirm.

Troll.

"But first," he said, expression suddenly darkening, "I want you to feel me like you did Anar'bel."

I frowned as he backed up with a troubled expression. He looked like he was forcing himself to stay in place, yet on the verge of running away. The atmosphere took a sudden dip towards dangerous; being around Lor was like being caught in the Maelstrom. One moment joking, the next hot, the next serious, the next dangerous.

"No," I responded automatically.

"Do it," he demanded, moving towards me again quickly and without warning. I dashed around the table and staggered back blindly but ran out of room to retreat, my back bumping up against the bookcase behind me as he closed the distance between us. My breath caught in my throat when I saw his dark expression, and all that intensity focused directly on me.

"Why?" I asked, unable to keep a slight tremor out of my voice. I didn't want to know what it was that lurked inside of him. His actions told me enough. He caged me in with his arms, threatening and big and admittedly quite sexy, but that latter one wasn't really relevant at this point.

"It's an order, Miss Walker." His eyes had become cold, his body unmoving. I had some breathing room, but I had a feeling that would shrink if I refused again. It was either I obey, or I get stuck between his body and this bookcase for the rest of the night. Strangely tempting, but unacceptable nonetheless.

I placed a trembling hand on his chest and closed my eyes.

At first I felt nothing. It's much harder to see inside an adult, even a willing one, than a child. And unlike Anar'bel's life force, I would never be able to touch his, even if I wanted to.

_Oh, Elune._

I couldn't breathe. I tried to pull back, but Lor grabbed my wrist and held it there, and I gasped, grimacing. It was too vile, too abhorrent to bear.

"Do you feel that?" he spoke softly, his words colder than a mage's Frost Nova.

How could I _not_ feel it? It was far worse than in Anar'bel, but under more control. It was like a separate entity inside him, snaking around his life force, dark and sickly and evil. Suffocating.

"Lor, please," I begged him to let go. He laughed and it sent chills of unease down my spine. I had never seen this side of him before. It was colder, darker than his normal self. It was frightening, but I was intrigued nonetheless.

He pressed closer to me, his body flush against mine, and I almost moaned at the contact. Even knowing what was inside of him, I still wanted him. My body didn't care about filthy magic, the war between the Alliance and Horde, or treason. If I had been able to move, I would have smacked myself in the face in the hopes of regaining some of my rationality.

"It's repulsive, isn't it? You're afraid of me now, aren't you? _You should be._" Lor grabbed my other wrist and pinned both above my head. A hint of desperateness had entered his voice. He shifted his hips forward and twisted them against mine, grinding his erection into me. Had I said something about him being _cold? _I fought for a breath, wondering how this situation had spiraled in such an absurd direction. He was aroused, and I had a feeling he was trying to scare me. Needless to say, his plan was not having the intended affect.

My mind, as inconvenient as it was, decided that this was the opportune moment to have a flash back of our first kiss. I recalled the way our lips came together, the taste of his tongue in my mouth, the feel of his hands on my body. Suddenly I couldn't breathe, but for very different reasons.

His eyes went from cold to hot in an instant. My eyes fixated on his mouth, and I couldn't quite tear my gaze away. I licked my own lips, my fear of him temporarily forgotten.

"You still want me, pet?"

It was the uncertainty in his voice that snapped me out of whatever lust-filled daze I was in. Obviously I still wanted him, but his words told me the real reason for this intimidating display. My theory was correct; he was trying to scare me away.

I grasped onto common sense with all my might, digging my mental feet into the ground as it tried to drag me away with it. I didn't allow myself to move my body. I had a feeling I could seal my fate with a single thrust of my hips, and find my virginity taken against a bookcase. I clenched my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. Deep breaths.

There could never be anything between us. I knew this, and with each passing moment the list of _why-I-shouldn't_ got longer. Like that swirling mass of tainted magic inside him. Or the fact that, you know, he was only _the leader of all blood elves_. But even if I were to give in to this lust at some point, now wasn't the time. Even if my body was aching and telling me that it really, really was. His lips on mine, those strong hands—

_Okay_ then, I was losing my mind, but that was beside the point. Right now he needed to be reassured that I thought he was sane, that our strange relationship would continue and I wasn't afraid of him. It was a test, of sorts.

I opened my eyes and found his only a few scant inches away. My breath hitched at the majestic, terrifying sight he made—such barely leashed power I could almost feel the hum against my skin. He was as taunt as a bow string, not blinking, not breathing. As if this was the pivotal moment that decided our ultimate fates.

I made a light tugging motion with my hands and gave him a small smile, hoping he would release my wrists. He did. I leaned forward then, slowly bringing my arms down to twist into his pale hair. I applied the slightest bit of pressure, urging his face towards mine. I was relieved when he instantly complied, and I touched my lips gently to the scar underneath his left eye. It was a simple gesture, but meaningful.

He breathed, resting his forehead on mine.

I gave a faint laugh, relieved. The tension in the room drained. "You know, we probably could have achieved the same end result with you being significantly less creepy and intimidating."

A grin tugged at his sinful lips. I still wanted them on mine.

"When you beg for me, I want you to be begging for _all _of me, pet," he said in a husky voice that made my stomach clench. "When you spread your legs, I want you to know exactly what it is you are spreading them for. No excuses about how I hid my true nature."

My jaw dropped. Well, he was certainly blunt when he wanted to get a point across. There was no room for misinterpretation there, and I debated whether or not this was a good time to tell him I wasn't planning on _spreading my legs for him_, as he so eloquently put it. He was on edge and I didn't want to mess with his current stability by challenging him.

And I doubted what I had felt was his _true nature_. Nothing about that was natural. But again, a matter for another time.

"I walk a fine line, pet," he murmured, eyes closed. His lips were still too damn close, but I concentrated on his words. "Insanity is never far away. It's a dark pool that's been attempting to drag me under for years. It did, for a time, but I fought the current and resurfaced."

He feathered kisses over my brow, down my cheek and neck. My breath shortened, my heart fluttered, and I couldn't get myself to withdraw my hands from his hair, even as his words sobered me. I was in so much trouble with this man. He breathed into my neck as he continued. "The next time I go under, Miss Walker," he whispered with an unnerving lack of emotion, "I will not be coming back up."

That was enough to cool any remaining heat between us. Lor was clearly haunted by the shadow of Kael'thas, and feared becoming a similar monster. I hadn't known Lor very long, but I honestly didn't see that as a possibility. However, I felt my knowledge in the area was too thin to make a truly accurate judgment; thank goodness for giant libraries full of knowledge, right at my fingertips. I had some reading to do.

And if this man drowned in his metaphorical pool, it would probably be a death sentence for me. Everyone else, except perhaps Ro, wouldn't hesitate to run a sword through my stomach. But I knew that wasn't the real reason my heart felt heavy at his words. "Why are you telling me all this?"

He pulled back and I released my grip on him. I turned my head away impulsively, but he grabbed my chin so I would be forced to look at him.

His green eyes narrowed. "Twelve minutes, Miss Walker."

Then he turned and left the library without giving me a second glance.

My knees decided they'd had enough stress for the day and gave out, and I found myself abruptly on the floor. _Oh Elune, give me guidance_, I pleaded.

What did he want from me? There was no way I could handle him. He was on a whole different level, and I knew I was just a game to him. Something new and shiny to play with. Even if I did go in there, I was almost certain to disappoint him. I'd meant it when I said I wouldn't have sex with him—and what man ever expected any less?

He said he wouldn't force himself on me, and thus far he had never gone back on his word. If I didn't sleep with him, I would have to sleep with the other servants. I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up missing my clothing or my journal or perhaps a limb. I trusted Lor a whole lot more than I trusted them, Ro excluded. Even some horrifyingly tainted magic wouldn't change that fact.

_This is the perfect opportunity to gather information_, my mind made up the lame excuse. I instantly felt guilty, but I smacked that guilt right back down. I was in Horde territory, there was no room for these emotions I was feeling. The night elves in the Ghostlands needed my intel, theoretically. Though I doubted Lor would keep anything of national security level importance in his bedroom anyways. _You never know!_

It was decided then. I would do it, just for tonight. I had enough self-control to prevent anything too disreputable from happening. _You sure about that, Chasidah?_

Oh Elune, I needed to write. _Well, you have twelve minutes._

I stood up, resolve in my movements as I grabbed my pen and opened to the first page of my new journal. I brought it to my nose and smelled it once more, just for that lovely new-paper and leather smell. Comforting, familiar.

I could do this.

For the Alliance. For my continued existence. For the night elves, and for my freedom.

_You keep telling yourself that._


	6. Chapter 6

******I'm sorry I haven't continued this in so long! I certainly haven't forgotten about them! I hit a bit of writers block before going to basic training...And then I was in basic training for two months, but now I'm finished with that so I should have access to a computer again regularly soon XD Thank you for all of your messages/reviews 3**

**Chapter 6**

I could do this.

_You _so _can't do this._

I could do this.

_Nope._

I just had to step in; so simple for such a daunting task! The door was slightly ajar, pulling me towards it like a death knight's Death Grip. I was about to fling myself into the room in a similarly ungraceful manner, if I managed to work up the courage. Or foolishness, depending on your point of view.

_This is such a bad idea._

But I was intrigued! Obsessed! Curious!

_This is such a bad idea._

What was he doing in there? Was he staring at the door as well, wondering if I would actually be foolish enough to enter? Or did he not care? Was he sprawled out on his bed, sleeping?

Was he fully clothed?

"Ahhhh," I hissed, turning away from the door and then turning back again. I glared at it, but doing so led to no grand epiphanies. I had another two minutes before the guards came back, but I was worried about them returning early. I had to make this decision _now_.

_What's the worst that could happen? _I could die, I suppose. Or be forced to have sex with the most attractive man I'd ever met. The former seemed highly unlikely and the latter just wasn't enough of a deterrent to get me to turn around and leave like any reasonable night elf would.

Could I actually resist his charm? The blood elf had me wrapped around his finger and he knew it. He had told me in extreme detail just how much he knew it.

_ This is such a bad idea._

I relaxed my tight grip on my journal closed my eyes. Staring at the door wasn't helping. _Deep breaths, Chasidah_. If I didn't enter, would I regret it?

Against my better judgment I slipped in, shutting the door softly behind me.

_Dear Elune, I can't do this._

The third thing I noticed was the room itself. It was plainer and smaller than I would have expected for someone of his social standing, with dark wooden bookshelves lining the walls and a simple desk and chair tucked in a corner. The room was lit by candlelight, the shadows flickering in time with the flames. It matched the style of everything else in Silvermoon, but there was nothing extravagant; except for the bed, which was the second thing I noticed.

The sheets looked like red silk. The bed frame itself was made of intricately carved wood, and a black canopy hung from the top. It made inappropriate thoughts dance across my mind, but I quickly subdued them. At least, I tried to convince myself of that. It was a little difficult because of the first thing I had noticed: the man that occupied it.

By Elune, he could steal my breath away.

He was sitting, leaned back against the pillows with a book in his lap. And he was in the middle of pulling off his shirt, half of his toned abdominals exposed. My breath caught in my throat and I froze, unable to glance away. Did he plan every moment of his time with me, just so I would feel perpetually uncomfortable?

And then he was shirtless. The whole shirtless thing had to stop immediately.

"Leave." His words were clipped, angry. I hadn't expected them.

"But I—,"

"Leave."

"Why?" I whispered, feeling worse than embarrassed. I had thrown out all my common sense to come in here, and now he was shoving me back out? Anger sparked inside me, overshadowing the shame. I managed to keep my eyes on his face.

"You're terrified. Look at yourself, pet," he sneered, throwing his shirt forcefully aside. _Eyes on his face, Chasidah. _"You're going to faint on the spot. Leave."

I felt profound relief at his words, and that spark of anger quickly fizzled out. He didn't _actually_ want me to leave; he just didn't want me scared of him. "Do you know why I'm terrified?" I questioned him, walking closer. Shaking, yes; but walking closer nonetheless.

He scoffed, picking up his book and pretending to read. "I'm the Regent Lord. I'm a blood elf. I have tainted magic inside me just waiting to consume my mind." His words were said casually, like he was discussing the weather. I almost laughed, but figured now was not the best time.

I'd also be in denial if I thought those were the only causes of my terror. "I'd say that's about a third of the reason," I told him truthfully. "And besides, fear has never been a driving force in my decision making." I paused my steps.

"And what has?" He placed his book back down and folded his arms over his chest. My breath shortened as he focused on me, and I suddenly wished I was wearing more than just this thin white dress.

"Curiosity," I gave a small smile. "Curiosity has always beaten out fear with me. The fact that you are alive is proof of that."

He sighed quietly. "Is that the only reason you are here?"

"No."

"Then why did you voluntarily walk into the dragon's nest, pet?"

Why indeed. I could ask myself the same thing.

"Why did you invite me, Master?" I countered. I was afraid to answer too much; my inability to lie was very inconvenient in situations like this. I had to tread carefully.

He tilted his head, long white hair falling to the side. His face was partially in shadows, so I couldn't even begin to read his expression. "And what is it that you fear?"

I scowled. "Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

His lips quirked. "Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

"No."

"Fine."

"Why won't you answer?"

"Why won't you?"

_Elune grant me patience. _

I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. He was infuriatingly calm, provoking me on purpose; arguing anymore would be like trying to talk into a cave with my own words echoing back at me. With an exasperated laugh I continued. "You asked me to come here. It was my move, and now I'm here. It's your turn in whatever game it is we are playing. You're not acting rationally."

"You make me irrational." His voice was clipped, as if admitting this was unsavory. "And this is hardly a game."

Interesting. I took another step forward. "So are you going to answer my question now?"

His calm, faintly amused demeanor returned. "No."

Of course not. Life could never be so easy.

"Fine, you win!" I huffed, marching over to the end of his bed. I dropped my journal on it and gripped the baseboard for strength. My words wouldn't be nearly as forceful if my knees gave out and I had to declare them from the floor. "I'm afraid of you because I don't not like you. You called me out on my obsession earlier, so do I honestly have to tell you why this scares me? This weakness I have for you will only hinder me. No good can come of this, and I have no idea what I'm doing. There, are you satisfied with my answer? Now tell me why you want me here, Lor'themar."

Damn right I was using his real name. Somewhere between the doorway and the bottom of his bed I had decided that in this room right now, with just the two of us, we were equals. I didn't appreciate being played with, and if he didn't like that, I would just march back out, waving at the guards as I went. I'm not sure where this bravery came from, but I wasn't about to question it.

He nodded slowly, his glowing green eyes eerie in the darkening room. One of the candles had blown out.

"Now answer my question or I leave." My voice was low and surprisingly steady.

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't correct my usage of his full name. "Is that what you're going to do?"

I nodded, my bravado decreasing with each second that passed.

"The guards have returned. If you walk out of this room they will see you. I can't have anyone know about this, pet. I gave you a choice." His voice was soft but threatening, and I recognized the death threat for what it was. His reputation was on the line. Why would he risk his reputation for something like this?

"Let me rephrase," I said, coming around to sit on the edge of the bed, as far away from him as possible. Since I couldn't lie, bluffing seemed like a proper next step. "If you don't answer my question, this won't be happening again. Tonight you will be sleeping on the floor while I get comfortable in this wonderful bed."

His eyebrows shot up and his lips twisted into a small smile. "The kitten bares her fangs. But I'm afraid your bite would do no more than tickle. Just how do you plan to enforce this, pet?" he challenged.

Yeah. About that.

"Let me try this one more time," I told him mock professionally. As soon as the idea came to mind, I wanted to slap myself in the face. _Don't say it Chasidah. Don't say it!_ "What if I agree to kiss you if you answer?" I said in a rush, abruptly looking away, partially hoping he hadn't heard a word of it.

Where on Azeroth did my sanity go? Did I leave it in the Ghostlands? Plaguelands? Stormwind?

I peeked back over in time to see his eyes widen and flare with heat. He hadn't been expecting that one. Neither had I, much.

"Mouth to mouth?" He clarified, closing the loophole I had planned on utilizing. Darn.

"Yes," I muttered, masking my excitement. Yes, _excitement_. Foolish, foolish.

"Now there is a bargain with some potential," he grinned, picking up the book on his lap and placing it on his bedside table. Lor's skin looked lovely in the candlelight, his muscles rippling as he moved, and I swallowed nervously when he caught me staring at him.

"Though you, ah, could try…putting on a shirt first," I mumbled, glancing away as if to admire one of his bookcases. That side of the room was too dark for me to make out any of the titles. There were papers strewn all over his desk, and I was instantly curious. Of course.

Curiosity killed the nightsaber, so they say.

His laugh was dark and seductive, and my heart picked up its pace. Being in the same room with Lor gave me better cardio exercise than running around Darnassus ever did. "For another kiss, perhaps."

I scowled again, staring down at my toes because it was less stressful than looking at him in all his half naked, scarred glory. I couldn't think when I did. I was having enough trouble thinking as it was.

"How about we trade questions?" I offered, seeing he was still silent. So long as he didn't question me about Thalassian or spying, I would be good.

He leaned back against the pillows, casually placing his arms behind him so the back of his head rested in the open palms of his linked hands. I pointedly ignored how good this made him look. I knew what he was trying to do, but I wasn't falling into that lust trap.

I swallowed hard. _Theoretically._

"Fine," he replied. "But every time I play nice and answer a question, you have to come at least a step closer to me."

I narrowed my eyes. Sitting at the very bottom edge of the bed like I was, I estimated there were about five questions in between us. At question six I'd start getting nervous, and question seven would have me pressed against him. Eight and I'd be on top of him.

"Stop counting questions in your head and agree already," he grinned. My heart fluttered in my chest.

"Agreed."

"Ask away, pet."

I had written a whole list. He laughed as I reached over, retrieved and opened my journal. "I should have expected this," he muttered with a smirk. I ignored him, flipped to the third page and took out my pen from the convenient slot the journal had for it. Best. Journal. Ever.

Moving on.

"Why were you in Elwynn Forest that night?"

"I'd been personally tracking the dealings of that slave trade, and had followed a lead to Elwynn Forest. My turn. Do you find me attractive, pet?"

I shifted over, lifting my legs onto the bed. The cool silken sheets felt lovely on my skin, but not nearly as lovely as the caress of his gaze. It made me forget who we were, where we were, what we were.

It made me long for things I shouldn't long for.

"Yes," I grumbled, pretending like my toes were super-interesting to look at. "Did you find out who ordered your assassination?"

"No."

I glanced up at his terse reply. This clearly displeased him. And darn him for not expanding on any of his answers. He clearly still didn't trust me, which was probably wise considering I was still going to meet up with that night elf at West Sanctum at some point. Ignoring the sudden surge of guilt, I wrote this new information down, mind working.

I scooted another step closer_. _

"Do you have anyone that will miss you back at home?"

Ouch. That was a hard one to answer. Why couldn't he ask practical questions? "I'm not quite sure I have a home," I said, unable to keep a bit of sadness out of my voice. "There's no one. Why did your men start blowing up the building with you inside?"

Lor frowned. "They didn't know I was still inside. Someone prematurely spread the word that I was out."

Did someone in his ranks want him dead? "The same person who ordered your assassination, you think?" I asked, wondering if all the weird events going on were somehow connected. I scribbled down my thoughts.

"The thought has crossed my mind. That was two questions, pet."

Ah! I needed to stop talking. I breathed deeply and crawled a bit closer.

He watched me with eyes that saw too much. I felt bare under his scrutiny, and I made a conscious effort not to squirm. "Why did you give me that necklace?" He asked.

How could I have forgotten? My hand automatically brushed against my own necklace, and I smoothed my finger over the curved edge, thinking about my response. We were being honest, and I didn't want to break the streak. "I made the two necklaces with my mother when I was young. She told me—," I paused, remembering the look on her face as she had spoken. It was peaceful, happy. Content. "—that if I ever met someone who left a big impression, I should give them one." I hesitated, but I had to know. "Do you still have it?"

"Yes. And that counts as a question, pet."

Dang. I moved forward accordingly. If I stretched out my arm, I could poke him in the chest. The next question would put me in way-too-close territory. I was already recalling the heat between us in that library.

By the way his hands clenched the sheets, I knew he was remembering as well.

That beautiful hair of his was nearly within my reach. I wanted to touch it. I'd wanted to touch it again since—

"Can I touch—," I began, before slapping a hand over my mouth. I watched his reaction with wide eyes.

His smile was wide and mischievous. "Pet, you may touch me anywhere you wish. I'm feeling so magnanimous, I won't even count that as a question. So you can start breathing again."

Oh, sweet oxygen. I inhaled, relieved and not the least bit disappointed.

Not the least.

I reached out, trailing my fingers through the silky strands. I wish _my_ hair was so lovely.

"All your questions have been so practical, pet."

"Practical questions are practical," I responded unhelpfully. I bit my lip, debating if the question I _really_ wanted to ask was worth the position it would get me into.

"Can you tell me about Ronae?"

He exhaled loudly, eyes looking far away. "Ronae is one big secret, pet. I'm sure you realized this already."

I nodded with a faint smile. "I could take some lessons from her."

"Please don't, pet," he chuckled. "Your inability to lie or hide information is both useful and endearing."

I scoffed, blushing. "Hardly. Do you know where she got that metal rose?"

He nodded, frowning at the memory. "After Tirion Fordring and his men slaughtered the Lich King, he did one final search of the Frozen Halls. Ronae was found in the black silk sheets of Arthas himself, mindless and hysterical. She clutched that metal rose so forcefully, her hands scarred from the wounds she gave herself in doing so. She didn't respond to anything or anyone for almost a week. And after that it took her months to utter a word to anyone."

I stiffened, horrified as his words registered. _Not gentle Ronae!_

"_The_ Lick King?" I gaped. That was insane. Why would she have been there? What possible explanation was there other than the obvious one? There had to be one, because my mind couldn't accept the fact that Ronae could've been the Lich King's personal, involuntary slave. Did he rape her? Hurt her? I felt tears prickle my eyes as all the possible scenarios played out in my mind, none of them remotely pleasant.

"She's tougher than she looks, pet. You should see the woman fight. She's an entirely different person on the battle field."

My eyes widened. I couldn't picture Ronae turning into a fierce warrior any more than I could picture her morphing into a night elf.

I wrote all this information down quickly, trying unsuccessfully to keep my hand steady as I did so. Elune, how had she survived? How would I be able to look at her the same way? I wanted to ask her about it, but I had a feeling she would shut down on me.

I needed a new topic before I started to dwell on it.

"Why haven't you named yourself King?" I probed, distracting myself from Ronae and knowing this would give me great insight into his character. Power is always hungry for power, yet he didn't take what he easily could have. I finished writing and pressed some of that silky hair to my face so I could smell it. _Forest. _He smelled wonderful. I had issues.

He inhaled sharply, at my question or my strange actions, I'm not certain.

"I'm not a politician," he said, and I heard the weariness in his voice. "This is not a job I want to have permanently. I do it because I have to, out of a sense of duty. I love my people, and I will be here so long as they need me."

Though he sounded tired, the conviction in his voice was strong. I brought my hand up and stroked along his firm jaw. Loyalty and conviction were sexy in a man. "And why did you invite me here, Lor?" I tried again.

He laughed softly, turning his cheek into my hand. "Ah pet, do you not feel it? The calm before the storm?"

That caught my attention. I met his steady gaze directly. "What do you mean?"

He crooked his finger at me, gesturing for me to come closer. I shook my head fervently. This was close enough. Any closer and I'd be on top of him.

"I'm answering your question, now come closer."

"_After_ you answer."

"Please."

_You're wrapped around his finger, Chasidah._

I couldn't resist the faint entreaty. It sounded earnest, and I had never been able to resist the plea of someone in need. When was the last time Lor had to say _please_ for anything? I couldn't imagine it being a frequent occurrence.

His voice was soft when he spoke next. "If you thought tonight could be your last night alive, what would you do?"

I halted beside him, my knees brushing against his thigh. Perpendicular like this, I could be pressed against his side by leaning forward the slightest bit. I resisted for the moment.

I considered his question. What was the motivation behind those words? And…what _would_ I do?

_I would probably beg you to make hot, passionate love to me,_ I considered after a moment, my gaze straying from his face. _I would follow each of those scars with my tongue. See how far below the waistband of your pants they really go. _

"_Belore_, woman. Don't beg me with your eyes like that or I'll do it."

I gasped and feigned ignorance, my entire body tensing. His voice was low and rough, as if he knew every dirty secret that weaved its way into my mind.

"I don't know what—,"

"It's been a long time, but I haven't forgotten what lust looks like."

I swallowed. I couldn't let him know this mattered. If I did, it just gave him another weapon to use against me. To bargain with. To mess with my head. "It's only logical," I muttered, averting my gaze. "You're a handsome blood elf, and I'm in a bed with you. I'm young and I have hormones. What do you expect?"

Wrong answer. The mood went from tense to dangerous in a split second.

I couldn't believe he hadn't heard it for the blatant lie that it was. I'd never been ruled by my hormones until I had laid eyes on him. If he'd been anyone else, I wouldn't have accepted the invitation into this room.

He grabbed me, and suddenly I was the one laid back on the pillows. They were comfortable and soft and smelled just like him, but my attention was focused on the creature leaning over me with candlelight flickering in his brightening, narrowing eyes. He was terrifying. Mystifying, with half his face in shadow. He was damn sexy, and I wondered where on Azeroth this feisty Chasidah had come from. I wanted to tangle my fingers into that silky white hair and close the inches between us. I wanted his lips on mine. Our bodies touching. The need was fierce, and I could hardly breathe with the intensity of it.

For goodness sakes, who _was_ I?

"I told you not to look at me like that," he hissed, leaning closer. He hovered just above me, straddling me but not actually touching. It was tantalizing. We were almost horizontal, and it was hard to respond when I could practically feel the heat from his skin. "Take your words back," he whispered, deadly serious. I wondered if that tainted magic I had felt in his life force was agitated by this, if some of that darkness I could see in his eyes was directly related to it. Would extreme emotion bring it to the surface?

"I think you can deduce the truth yourself," I evaded, barely hearing my own words. How could I speak when his lips were now only an inch a way?

"Humor me." He radiated hot fury, and some dark, intrigued part of me wanted to see what he would do with it.

I tilted my head playfully, lips curving into a sly smile. "No."

His eyes narrowed to slits. "I'll fuck the next pretty blood elf that crosses my path, since it will make no difference to you."

_He's baiting you Chasidah._ I knew it, but it worked nonetheless. My jealousy was instantaneous and blinding. When had I started feeling some sort of possessiveness over this man?

Two could play this game.

I glared up at him, but my gaze kept flickering to his lips, pressed together in a tense line. "There was this dark, sexy rogue I saw slinking arou—,"

His lips slanted over mine with a growl, cutting me off, his body pressing me forcefully into the bed. He kissed me so hard it would have been painful had I not wanted it so badly.

He kissed me like tasting me was more important than his next breath. My mouth was opened so wide I couldn't do much more than take what he was giving me, his tongue plundering my mouth, twirling around my tiny fangs, dancing with my own tongue. It was all-consuming, shredding all semblances of my sanity and rationality, leaving only a desperate hunger in its wake. It was an _I'll-sell-my-soul-just-please-don't-stop _type of kiss, the type that have the ability to brand you permanently. It was the kind of kiss that could get a girl like me in all sorts of trouble. I didn't want it to stop, and I dug my fingers into his hair and pressed him down harder, his growl of approval sending shivers of desire down my spine.

_Thunk thunk thunk._

The loud pounding at Lor's door nearly scared the blue out of my skin, and thankfully Lor's mouth muted my surprised yelp.

_"Damn it_," he snarled, eyes blazing, face strained with desire and fury as he pulled back. He rolled off me, rubbing his face with both hands like it would rub his lust away. I took a moment to put together the wandering pieces of my brain, not sure if I wanted to thank Elune or curse her for the interruption.

_Thunk thunk thunk._

I sat up abruptly and our gazes collided, a silent _uh oh_ passing between us. It would have been comical had it not been so very bad. He brought a finger to his mouth in that universal gesture of _be quiet_. I gave him my best _duh_ look, pretending like I hadn't been on the verge of letting him do anything he wanted with me only moments before.

I glanced quickly around the room. I could see well in the dark, and there were definitely no good hiding places. Surely the Regent Lord would have an exit other than the main exit? But even if he did, we probably wouldn't have time for that, because another set of door pounding had begun.

"_One moment!_" Lor hissed in Thalassian, swinging his legs out of bed and gesturing for me to get under it.

Like, under the bed.

Oh my.

I scrambled awkwardly off the bed, kneeled down, recalled I had a journal, stood back up, grabbed my journal and practically threw myself under the bed, scraping my knees along the way. Hurrah for healing magic.

I placed my journal beside me and covered my mouth with both hands, just so I wouldn't be tempted to make any sort of noise. The bed skirt came down low enough so only an inch or so of space remained between it and the floor. So long as our guest didn't decide to take a nap or do some exploring, I would theoretically be safe.

Elune, this was shameful. It had never happened to me, but I imagine being fourteen and getting caught making out in bed with your first boyfriend would elicit similar feelings. I wanted to sink into the floorboards and disappear. Why was I even here, again?

_Because you're an obsessed idiot._

Ah, yes. That's right.

I heard the door creak as Lor opened it. I had a feeling one could only interrupt the sleep of a Regent Lord for something very, very important.

And very, very bad.


End file.
